


Weird Little Hurts

by Little_Bunny



Series: The Weird 'Verse [7]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Bath Time, Bubble Bath, Discussion of Mouth Soaping, Gossip, Medical Procedures, Non-Sexual Age Play, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Preemptive Safeword Use, Queerplatonic Relationships, Spanking, Temper Tantrums, The medical stuff is actually medical, We Respect Safewords in this House, not BDSM related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22248439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Bunny/pseuds/Little_Bunny
Summary: Shane hurts his ankle. Not on a location, not on a shoot. He's just...getting out of an Uber.All in all, it's a weird way to get hurt.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej & Sara Rubin, Shane Madej/Sara Rubin
Series: The Weird 'Verse [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563661
Comments: 51
Kudos: 112





	1. We All Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This one contains mild medical stuff (xrays, bruising, scenes in a doctor's office.)
> 
> Disclaimer: This is about a fictional version of the media personas of the aforementioned individuals, and is not about and has no connection to any of these people or places in real life. This is an alternative universe unconnected to the real world where we live.

The worst part of how he gets injured is that they aren't on location.

It's not in some marginally spooky swamp, or reportedly haunted hotel, or even just out in the woods. They were on location shooting a promotional video for Knott's Berry Farm earlier in the day, but by the time he gets hurt, all the shooting is over and they're not even on the clock, almost home free.

He steps out of the Uber, his foot catches on the edge of the curb, and he goes down hard.

Immediately, popping pain tears through his right ankle. "Shit!" Shane curses, because it hurts a lot, and he falls forward into all fours. His sneaker goes flying.

He barely blinks before Ryan's coming out of the other side. "Oh my god, what happened?" he asks, crouching at Shane's side.

"My shoe got caught," he says. He tries to shift so he can stand, but immediately winces when he tries to put even a little weight on it. "Ah, fuck!" he hisses.

"Sit down for a second," Ryan orders, nudging his shoulder with the back of his hand, and Shane rolls so he's on his back in the grass. He grabs his shoe, but doesn't even try to put it on, because already, he can tell that it's going to hurt a lot.

The Uber driver is apologizing profusely and he can hear Ryan telling him that it isn't his fault.

It's  _ not _ the guy's fault, honestly. Shane is just a klutz. 

"I'm just gonna stay here," Ryan says, which is a change in plans but Shane doesn't mind. "So you can go. It's ok, man."

Oh. He's talking to the Uber guy, who drives away.  _ Flees the scene,  _ Shane's brain fills in.

When Ryan comes back to him, he's got his bag over one shoulder and Shane's over the other. "Is Sara home yet?" he asks.

Shane shakes his head. "She's got something conceptual with the As/Is girls tonight," he says. "She was planning to stay until 6 at least."

Ryan looks at his watch. "Well, let's get you in the house, I guess, and we can decide what to do."

It's a lot easier said than done. The first problem is the shoe, which he does not want to even try. So he peels off his sock and ignores Ryan's assertion that he shouldn't be barefoot. Putting weight on his ankle makes his whole leg throb, and Ryan carefully pulls his pants leg up to expose the whole mess. He doesn't look pleased when he sees that it's already swelling.

Ryan does most of the work pulling him to his feet. "I'm really glad you keep on top of your workouts," Shane pants. Even though Ryan did most of the heavy lifting, it still wasn't easy.

"Honestly, me too," Ryan says. "You're no lightweight, big guy."

They both look down at Shane's right leg, which still seems to be swelling, and Ryan shakes his head. "Alright, buddy. New plan. We gotta get this thing x-rayed."

Shane doesn't argue, because Ryan's the one who has seen sports injuries, and his fucking ankle hurts kind of a lot. He calls another Uber, which is thankfully only five minutes away, and leans Shane awkwardly against a retaining wall that's meant to prevent erosion. Then he takes Shane's key and bag and runs into the house.

He comes back with a pillowcase and a bag of frozen peas that he awkwardly holds against Shane's ankle. "Just stay upright," he tells him when Shane tries to stoop to do it himself. "If you tip over again, that's a lot of work." 

He's got a good point, so Shane just stands there, feeling awkward as shit. 

"What the hell are we gonna do with this shoe?" he asks. "I don't want to put it on, because it's gonna hurt, but I can't just have one shoe on either.

Ryan sighs and takes it from him. He leans the peas gingerly against Shane's ankle, then carefully unlaces the shoe to its fullest capability. With help, Shane manages to get his foot inside.

"Don't lace it, Ry, please," he begs, and then immediately feels bad, because he's definitely not trying to be little right now, but it still just slipped out. 

"I won't, buddy," Ryan says. "Come on, just breathe, okay?"

Shane does. "Sorry," he apologizes after a second, in a more normal tone. "I'm not trying to be--I didn't--" 

"Hey, it's okay," Ryan says. "You're hurt."

"I'm not little," Shane tells him quietly. "I mean, I'm not playing, or whatever. It just really fucking hurts." 

"You don't have to be anything in particular," Ryan says, "as long as you let me help you, because your ankle isn't looking so good. Ok?" His tone is altogether too understanding.

Shane doesn't know what to say, so he just sighs and leans against Ryan.

The Uber pulls up, and it's a different guy behind the wheel. Shane is grateful for that. Ryan helps him hobble into the backseat and swings around to the other side and pulls Shane's foot up into his lap. 

"You don't have to--" Shane tries to protest.

"Shush, Shane," Ryan says. So he does.

At the urgent care, Ryan only helps him limp to the doorway before grabbing one of the complimentary wheelchairs. Shane feels like a real tool, but Ryan doesn't seem to care at all.

"That's what they're for," he tells Shane. "Come on. Don't give me a hard time about this or I swear to god I'll fireman-carry you in there."

And Shane absolutely believes him, so he capitulates.

It's not super busy, thankfully, so after he checks in, fills out a bunch of forms, and gets his vitals taken, the nurse leads them back to an exam room. "You want him on the table?" Ryan asks her. "Cuz that's a process."

She smiles at him, a dimple appearing in her cheek. "No, may as well stay in the wheelchair," she says to them both. "Dr. Marsh is probably going to want to see some pictures."

Shane's relieved enough at that, because he's tired of getting thrown around like a bag of potatoes. Ryan just thanks her and sits on the chair.

"Well, this isn't how I was hoping to end this day," Shane says. Ryan pats his left knee.

"I mean, that video is gonna be so good though," he says. "The engagement will be through the roof. And Knott's should be happy too. Plus, we ate more berries than I usually get in a month."

"I still can't believe they fed us all that," Shane says. "I'm still stuffed."

"Be grateful," Ryan tells him. "Depending on what happened to your ankle, we might be here a while."

Shane groans and leans into his hand. "Did I mention that this wasn't what I was hoping to be doing tonight?"

"I know," Ryan says.

"I was working on some ideas for a new show," Shane says.

"What's the concept?" Ryan's pretty much always down to spitball ideas.

"History, but freaky," Shane says. 

"Freaky? Like sex history?" The look on Ryan's face is intrigued but also mildly wary. "Is there a lot of sex history?"

Shane laughs. "I mean, technically all of history is sex history," he points out, and Ryan shrugs.

"I guess, but like...a Who's Who of boning isn't really that interesting. That's just geneology."

"One, geneology is fascinating, so take that back. And two, no, not sex history per se." Although, now that he thinks about it, that could be interesting, but it wasn't exactly what he'd been thinking of. "Just weird history. The kind of thing they don't teach you in school."

"Like the people you're always taking about who danced themselves to death?" Ryan looks like he's considering it. "That could be really cool."

"Yeah, like that. I did some research on a couple of topics, and I think there's plenty of potential there. So I was going to see if I could write a proposal to see if I could get the green light from BuzzFeed. I figured it would be a good one for the summer hiatus."

"It's a little weird that we've actually got a significant hiatus," Ryan says. "Still can't believe what they pulled with TJ. That was dirty."

That's sobering, because they really did do TJ wrong. "Yeah," Shane sighs. Letting him go as a full-time employee only to hire him back as a consultant was a pretty low trick. They were both glad he was still there, but with his new baby and all, the man needed health insurance. "Guess I should just be glad that I've still got insurance, huh?" He gestures down at his leg, where the peas are melting messily into the pillow case.

"God, that really would have been a disaster," Ryan agrees. "Pretty sure x-rays aren't cheap."

There's a knock on the door. "Hi, I'm Dr. Marsh," a small, middle-aged blond woman in a lab coat says, coming in. There's not a ton of room to maneuver because of the wheelchair, but she's tiny and she squeezes in, offering her hand to Shane and then Ryan. "I heard you did something to your ankle?"

"Yeah," Shane says. "Not sure what happened. I was getting out of the car and just went down."

She takes the peas off his ankle, which makes him wince, and gently eases the sneaker from his foot. The skin is red from the cold, but also turning black and blue. It doesn't look great. "Well, the ice was a good start," she says, and Shane points at Ryan with his thumb, giving credit where it's due. "Can you move it for me?"

He tries, but isn't particularly successful, and it hurts a lot. Ryan grabs his hand when he gasps, and he squeezes it gratefully. She touches his foot carefully in a couple places. "Can you put weight on it?"

"Not well," he admits. "Pretty sure I couldn't have gotten myself up without Ryan's help."

She nods. "Okay. I'm gonna order some x-rays. They're down the hall, but your partner will have to wait outside."

He sees Ryan's eyebrows go up at that, but he doesn't say anything like, 'Oh, he's not my  _ partner,'  _ or even let go of Shane's hand. She sees the eyebrows too, but misinterprets them and says, "Because of the radiation. You don't want to be exposed unnecessarily."

"Sure," Ryan says. "But, uh… He's neither mobile nor small. You should have seen the struggle we had getting here."

"You can help him get in place if you want," the doctor says. "You just have to step out when they take the film."

Ryan nods, and Shane does too. "I'll have Kelly come get you," Dr. Marsh says. "After you're done, you can come back and wait while we read them and see what's going on."

She ducks out, shutting the door behind her. Shane looks at their hands, intertwined on his leg. 

"You didn't tell her you weren't my partner," Shane says. He doesn't mean to, but it's already out by the time he realizes what he's saying.

Ryan shrugs. "Why would I? I mean, aren't I?" he says, and it's true, so Shane just nods his agreement. In the last six months, they've definitely become that queerplatonic thing they've all been talking about. "Plus, I couldn't exactly tell her I'm your, your Papi Ry, can I?"

Shane huffs, amused. The nickname was Sara's fault, but it had kind of stuck, at least for referring to Ryan's role in that particular context. "No, I suppose not," he says. But it's definitely different than what the Ryan of six months ago would have done.

Shane likes this better. 

"Oh, shit," Ryan says, and suddenly he's dropping Shane's hand and digging into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

It takes Shane a second to realize what he's doing, but in his defense, he's in a fair amount of pain. 

"Sara!" he says, and a moment later, his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

"Speaking of partners…yours is gonna fucking murder me," Ryan says, still typing. Shane pulls out his own phone and checks the message on the group chat. The phone buzzes again.

> ** _Ryan Bergara: Shane hurt his ankle so I took him to urgent care. _ **
> 
> ** _Ryan Bergara: They're gonna take xrays soon._ **

Shane laughs. "You gonna send her a picture?"

Ryan looks at his ankle, which isn't looking that great. It's starting to resemble one of the many boysenberries they ate earlier. "I think she'll just worry more," he says. "Maybe save the first look until we have something to tell her."

> ** _Sara Rubin: omg what the hell? How did you do that at Knott's?_ **

Shane sighs.

> ** _Shane Madej: not at Knott's. In front of the house. Getting out of the Uber._ **

Their phones both buzz almost immediately.

> ** _Sara Rubin: ??????_ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: How?????_ **

Ryan chuckles tiredly. "It's a good question," he says.

"I don't know, though," Shane whines. "It just happened."

> ** _Ryan Bergara: I'll let you know once we figure it out._ **

This is going to turn into one of those things that Shane's never going to live down.

There's another knock on the door, and another woman opens it. She's about the same age as his mom, tall and stout, and reminds Shane, weirdly enough, of a Viking. "I'm Kelly; I'll be taking your x-rays. You want to follow me?" she asks.

Shane texts Sara to fill her in while Ryan pushes him down the hallway behind Kelly.

> ** _Shane Madej: X-ray time. Wish me luck!_ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: Good luck, babe! 😘_ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: Also, good luck to Ryan having to haul you around._ **

He reads this to Ryan, who laughs. "How did she know?"

Shane just gives him a look over his shoulder. "You did tell her you took me to get x-rays, and that I messed up my ankle. It's not exactly a stretch."

Kelly leads them into a darkened room with a padded bed and several weird things that he assumes are the x-ray equipment. They look like very large versions of the ones he recognizes from the dentist.

"Okay, so two things. You need to get the jeans out of the way, at least to above the knee, and I need you to get on the table," Kelly says. "You need a hand?"

"Ry'll help," he says, and dammit, he's doing it again. But Ryan just nods and pushes the chair over to the table.

"Guess I'm getting my squats in, baby," he jokes.

"Lock the brakes," Kelly says, which Ryan does, and then he's got his hands on Shane's waist. "Use my shoulders as leverage," Ryan orders him, and then he's got him up and pivoting on his good leg to sit on the bed. He eases his leg very carefully onto the plastic surface.

That's when he sees the problem with the jeans.

"If we get these off, we're never getting them back over that leg," Ryan points out. "Not without making you cry."

"I don't wanna go home naked," Shane protests.

"Think we can roll them up? They're awfully skinny," Ryan says doubtfully. 

Shane sighs. "Give it a shot?" he says.

So Ryan gamely tries, but they aren't particularly stretchy and Shane can already tell he's going to be thwarted by the taper.

"We're gonna have to cut them," Shane says glumly. He liked these pants too.

Kelly produces a pair of bandage scissors. "It might be salvageable if you cut up the inside of his leg," she says.

"I'll turn 'em into cut-offs later," Shane says, but he doesn't protest as Ryan carefully cuts the inside seam to just above his knee and folds them up. 

The ankle looks worse every time he glances at it. "Well, that's gross," Shane says, trying to inject a little levity into the situation.

"Don't look at it," Ryan tells him. "I'm gonna go call Sara, but I'll be right outside if you need me."

"You're a brave man," Shane tells him.

"Nah, she loves me," Ryan says. "But if she has me murked, avenge me, okay?"

Kelly comes in as Ryan slips out, carrying an odd-looking board. "Well, Shane, this is probably going to be pretty uncomfortable," she warns him. He sighs.

"Let me have it." 

* * *

Ryan steps into the hallway and immediately dials Sara. She picks up on the first ring.

"How's he doing?" she asks, sounding sympathetic.

"He's hanging in there, but… Well, It's pretty gross-looking. Really bruised. The tech is getting the x-rays now."

"Is he being a baby about it?" Ryan hears the real question she's asking.  _ Is he being  _ ** _your_ ** _ baby, Ry? _

"He's doing okay," Ryan says. "He's hurting a lot, which doesn't help, but he's mostly got his game face on."

"And how are you doing?"

Ryan's slightly taken aback. "Me? I'm fine. I didn't get hurt. Getting a good workout in."

"He's your boy. I know you're over there worrying just as much as I am," Sara says. She doesn't really let him get away with that macho bullshit anymore.

Ryan sighs. "He's gonna be ok. I just want to get him fixed up and home."

Her voice goes soft and very quiet. "He's gonna want you there tonight," she says. "Like, really. You should stay."

He'd already been planning on it. "Way ahead of you, woman," he says. 

"Good," she says sincerely. "I'm going home as soon as I can. I'll make tacos, okay? Just get him home."

"Okay," Ryan says, and honestly, he's so glad for her support. "See you soon."

"Love you," she says, and then she's gone. Ryan glances at his phone.

_ It was probably reflex _ , he decides, and shoves it in his pocket. Like when you called the teacher 'mom' as a kid and then died of embarrassment 

And then Kelly is sticking her head out the door. "He wants your help getting back in the chair," she says, and Ryan goes.

Poor Shane has a light sheen of sweat over his face. "Fuck, Ry, it hurts," he mumbles when Ryan comes in, and Ryan wishes with everything in him that Shane was smaller, so he could just scoop him up.

"I take it the x-rays sucked?" he asks sympathetically instead, rubbing his hand on Shane's back.

"So much," Shane agrees. "She had to move my foot around to get the right views. I'm not… It wasn't fun."

"Alright, honey," he says softly, just for Shane. "Let's get you back on the chair, okay?'

It's not hard to get him back on the chair, but Ryan can see how much Shane is struggling. It's clear that the pain is pretty intense.

Kelly sneaks up behind them. "I'll bring you back to the room," she says. She gives Shane a sympathetic look. "I know that really hurts, but you did great." She offers him a sucker. "These are technically for the kids, but honestly, you look like you could use one."

Shane perks up slightly at the orange sucker. "Thank you," he tells her. "Not gonna lie, that was a terrible experience." He peels off the wrapper and pops it in his mouth.

"Sugar makes everything better, except diabetes," Kelly says sagely. "Come on, this way."

She leads them back to the room where they started, and he and Shane both thank her. She waves them off with a "Good luck!" 

Once the door closes, Shane slumps. "If I'm being really honest," he says around the sucker, and his voice sounds small and exhausted, "I just want some pain medicine and to go home and cuddle, Ry."

"Oh, sweetheart, I know," Ryan replies. "You've been so brave." He grabs his boy's hand and squeezes it. "Soon, okay?" 

Yeah, he's falling into his own version of headspace too. He just wants to take care of his little boy.

Shane is blinking now, trying to keep back tears. "It was a really good day and I ruined it," he whispers.

"It's not your fault, okay? Accidents happen." Ryan would seriously give a kidney to be in Shane and Sara's living room, cuddling his boy. "And you didn't ruin it. This part isn't great, but once I get you home, Sara's making tacos and we can give you some medicine so you'll feel better, and we can all just sit on the couch and watch a movie. That part will be really nice, okay?"

"Okay," Shane says. Ryan is so glad that Kelly gave them a sucker, because he knows that Shane would be chewing on that knuckle otherwise.

So he sits there and holds Shane's hand, and Shane manages to get himself together a little. He's still obviously in pain, but he no longer looks like a two-year-old by the time they're interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hi guys, Dr. Marsh," she reminds them briefly. "I got a look at the films. It doesn't look broken, but you definitely sprained it. I've got a brace you can use for support, and we'll get you a set of crutches until the swelling goes down and you feel comfortable walking on it. Other than that, rest it, use ice for pain and swelling, keep the brace on when you're moving around, and keep it elevated when you're at rest."

"Rice it, huh?" Ryan asks. The doctor nods.

"You've got it. I'll give you a print-out. Also, I'll give you a script for Tylenol 3, and you can alternate that with ibuprofen every 4-6 hours, okay? My best guess, it's gonna be at least a week until it starts feeling better. If it's been more than two and it's still bad, you should come back. The print-out will have all the info you need. And you can call the clinic if you have any questions." She hands him a physical piece of paper. "That's his prescription for the Tylenol with codeine," she says. "Kendra will get you the instructions, okay?"

"Thank you," Shane says.

"Yes, thanks so much," Ryan echoes.

It takes a bit to get all of the things they need sorted out, but eventually Shane's got tall crutches and a braced and wrapped ankle. Ryan calls an Uber when they're paying for the Tylenol 3s, and they make their way out to the sidewalk. He texts Sara that they're on their way.

> ** _Sara Rubin: Just started browning the meat, so good timing._ **

Getting Shane to the clinic was not fun, and getting him home is a disaster. He's taken a Tylenol now, but it hasn't kicked in yet, so he's still in a lot of pain. He's not great at the crutches. He's tired and emotional.

Yet again, Ryan finds himself wishing that Shane was small enough that he could physically pick him up and put him in the car. 

But they get in there eventually, and the ride is dead silent. Ryan's pretty sure his Uber passenger rating is tanking, but he can't bring himself to care.

Shane and Sara's house has never looked so beautiful. He gives the driver actual, physical cash as thanks for putting up with them, and helps Shane fold out of the car. 

The limp to the door seems to take forever, but it's open. Shane makes it in, and lands on the couch with a groan, crutches clattering to the ground.

Ryan can smell the tacos, and it's comforting. "Hey Sara," he calls. "We made it!"

She comes out of the bathroom. "Oh, I was so worried about you guys," she says, immediately coming over to check Shane out. The Tylenol 3 is starting to work, so he looks a little more relaxed, but also kind of teary.

"Hi babe," Shane says, and immediately starts to cry. She carefully sits next to him.

"Rough day?" she says sympathetically. 

"It was great, until it sucked," Shane affirms.

Ryan isn't sure what to do, so he sits on Shane's other side. "Buddy, put your leg up," he says, stealing one of the many throw pillows available and plopping it on the table top. Shane grunts but settles his leg on it.

He's still crying. Not dramatically or anything; it's almost like he doesn't realize he's doing it.

Sara gives him a sweet kiss and touches his face gently. "I'm glad you're home," she says, "where hopefully you can't hurt yourself."

"Hey," Shane protests damply. "It wasn't my fault."

"Shh, I know. Are you hungry?"

Shane just nods, and Ryan feels like he's on more solid ground.

He's gotta get him to eat, change his clothes, and keep off the leg. Those should all be easy things.

_ Oh, sure _ . Even Ryan knows he's full of shit.

"Your pants," Sara says. She tugs lightly at the flapping fabric.

"They were too skinny. We had to cut them," Ryan explains.

"I liked these pants, too," Shane complains. He wipes at his eyes absently.

"Let's get you into something comfortable," Ryan says. 

Sara stands up. "I'll grab some pajamas," she says. Shane starts shifting his weight like he's thinking about trying to stand.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Ryan says, pressing his hand against Shane's chest.

"Pajamas," Shane replies.

"Nope. Sara's got it." He keeps his hand there until he feels Shane relax. "Just let us help you."

"Alright," Shane says softly.

Sara comes out with a pair of pajamas pants and a tee shirt, and surprisingly, Harold. Ryan takes them from her. He passes the Bigfoot stuffie to Shane, who presses him against his chest with a little sigh.

"I'm gonna warm up the taco shells," she says. "You wanna get him dressed?'

Ryan almost expects Shane to protest, because Sara's talking about him like he's a baby, but he doesn't. Instead, he just grabs Ryan's pant leg.

"Yeah. Come on, buddy," he says to Shane. "Let's get you comfy."

It's not an easy process. Shane has on layers. Peeling off the jacket and the shirts are easy enough, and he basically does that himself. He lets Ryan help him put on the tee shirt, though, and sighs. He settles Harold around his neck.

He's slipping  _ hard _ . 

"Alright, now the pants," Ryan says. Shane whines audibly.

"I know," Ryan says. "I'll help you, okay?"

Shane unbuttons and unzips, then stops. "Do I have to stand up?" he asks miserably. 

"I don't think so," Ryan says. "I've got an idea."

They manage to get the pants down with a lot of shifting back and forth and some careful pulling on Ryan's part. He eases them off Shane's legs, being careful not to jostle his ankle. 

He reverses the process to get the pajama pants on. It seems to take forever, but finally, Shane is dressed.

He shoves his knuckle in his mouth and ducks his head into Harold's soft fur. Ryan sighs and lets it go, because it's been a hell of an afternoon. "Alright, big guy. Hard part's over."

Sara comes over bearing two plates. "Here, boys," she says, handing them each one. The tacos are fully loaded and look amazing.

"Thank you," Ryan says, and Shane echoes it. Ryan pushes Harold so he's hanging off Shane's back instead. He doesn't want a repeat of the taco sauce incident.

"No problem," Sara replies. She goes back for drinks for them all, and then her own plate. She sits on Shane's other side. 

Ryan is starving, surprisingly, considering everything they ate at Knott's. Then again, he's been hauling Shane around all afternoon, so maybe it makes sense.

Sara turns on Netflix and puts on  _ Bolt _ , and they eat in comfortable silence. Ryan finishes first.

"There's more on the stove if you want it," Sara offers.

Ryan thinks for a second, and goes to make a couple more. He looks back at Shane, who is listing tiredly against Sara's side, and reaches up to the top shelf to get his cup.

He fills it with grape juice, and brings the plate and the cup over. "Here, bud," he says, handing Shane the sippy.

Shane takes it. "Thanks, Ry," he says softly, taking a drink. Ryan can tell that the medicine is actually working now.

Ryan finishes his second plate, and gathers Shane and Sara's too. Shane only ate two tacos, but considering everything, that's probably pretty good. He brings them into the kitchen, rinses them off, and loads them into the dishwasher.

"You don't have to do that," Sara says. She's cuddled up to Shane, who is half-asleep, Harold under his arm, sippy cup falling out of his hand. He looks exhausted.

"I know, but I want to" Ryan says. He washes the pans by hand and loads the rest into the dishwasher before starting it.

Behind him, he hears a snore. He glances back, and Shane's head is lolled against the back of the couch. Sara meets his eyes and they both smile.

"He's cute when he's sleeping," Ryan jokes.

"He can't sleep here though," she points out. "He's gonna wake up in so much pain."

Ryan sighs. "I'll get him in bed," he says. He's not going to the gym tomorrow, that's for sure.

"You're the best," Sara says.

He walks over to them and shakes Shane's good knee. "Hey buddy, come on. Let's get you in bed."

Shane groans and shakes his head. "Lemme sleep here," he says.

"Shane, your neck is going to hurt so much," Sara says patiently.

"It's not good for your foot either," Ryan reminds him. "Come on. I'll help you."

Shane sighs, but his eyes open. "It's so far," he complains, but lowers his bad foot carefully to the ground. Ryan offers his hand, and Shane takes it and lets him help him to his foot. Ryan has to catch him when he overbalances and lurches forward.

"Whoa, there, big guy, let's not head back to the urgent care today," Ryan says, steadying him. Sara offers his crutches, which Shane takes reluctantly.

"Work is gonna suck so much tomorrow," Shane says.

He makes his way towards the bedroom, with Ryan shadowing him like a spotter. It's a good thing, because he's barely past the kitchen when one of the crutches skitters out from under him, and Ryan has to grab him before he crashes into the wall.

"Goddammit!" Shane hisses as he puts weight on his bad ankle.

"Hey, I got you," Ryan says. Behind him, he can feel Sara hovering. 

Shane gets the crutch back in alignment. "I've got to pee," he grumbles. "This blows."

Ryan agrees. "Let me help you get in there so you don't break your face. You can take it from there, okay?"

Shane's face actually reddens. "Seriously?" he complains. "Can't I pee alone?"

"I'm not gonna hold it for you," Ryan says, joking in an attempt to lighten the situation. "Just let me help you get in the room. You're a little off-kilter with the codeine."

Shane looks at him, then at Sara, obviously not thrilled. "Babe, please," she says. "Two emergency visits in a day does not sound great."

Shane sighs. "Okay, fine," he says. "But you have to wait outside."

"Duh," Ryan says. "Come on. Let's get it over with."

So Ryan shadows Shane until he's balanced on his good foot, using the vanity to keep himself upright. "I swear to God, I can handle this part, okay?" Shane says. "Get out of here."

"Gladly," Ryan says. "Just let me know when you're done." He steps out.

Sara's in the hallway, looking nervous. "Maybe I should be spotting in there?" she says. "I mean, we don't generally watch each other pee, but desperate times and all that."

"You're half his size," Ryan points out. "If he fell, he'd actually squash you. I don't want to have to wrangle two mangled people into an Uber."

Sara snorts, and from the bathroom, Shane complains, "I can hear you, you know." The tap turns on.

Sara tilts her head into Ryan's shoulder. "How long did the doctor say it would be until he heals?" she mumbles.

Ryan sighs. "Probably a week or so before it feels better; maybe a month and a half until it's really healed?"

"Too damn long, in other words," Sara says. Ryan nods.

"At least we're on hiatus," he says in an undertone. "Can't imagine trying to shoot on location with all this."

"Thank God for small miracles," Sara agrees. Ryan pats her on the shoulder.

The tap turns off. "You decent?" Ryan calls.

"Yeah," Shane says tiredly, and Ryan comes in. Shane managed somehow to hop over to the sink and wash his hands, but he's stuck there now because his crutches are over by the toilet and he's apparently out of juice. "I fucked up, Ry," he admits, ducking his head against Harold.

He's leaning against the sink and looks stable, so Ryan sneaks past him to grab the crutches. "I oughta smack you with one of these," he says, helping Shane position them correctly so he can make his way back out of the bathroom. 

"Aw, come on," Shane says. "I'm injured."

Ryan's right behind him, hands hovering above his waist as Shane limps his way into Shane and Sara's bedroom.

Ryan hasn't been in here before, because it's their space, and it feels a little weird. "Which side of the bed is yours?" he asks.

"This side," Shane tells him, and Sara nods her confirmation. 

The bed is made, and Sara hurries forward to draw back the bedding on Shane's side. He doesn't sit on the bed so much as he collapses into it.

"Do you guys have any extra pillows?" Ryan asks. "For the leg?"

Sara nods and disappears out the door. Shane lays down, wincing as his foot presses against the mattress. "That is not a good feeling," he mutters.

"Well, you're facing the wrong way, but also, we'll support that ankle. That's what the pillows are for," Ryan says. He got a hairline fracture in high school from basketball, and he can remember how his mom helped him support his foot at night while it healed. 

"I always face this way," Shane says.

Sara comes in, holding several fluffy throw pillows. "Guess I'm the big spoon tonight," she says cheerfully. 

"Wouldn't that make you the jet pack?" Ryan asks. He gets smacked with a throw pillow by Sara, and laughs. "Just saying! You're not big enough to be the big spoon!"

That even gets a tired chuckle from Shane.

"Alright, big guy. Flip onto your left side," Ryan orders gently, and Shane does, wincing as it jostles his ankle.

Ryan takes the pillows from Sara and arranges a couple carefully under Shane's calf and ankle. The third goes between his knees. Shane sighs.

"Okay, that's a lot better," he admits.

Ryan takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. "You'll hopefully start feeling better tomorrow."

"God I hope so," Shane says. His eyes are starting to droop. "Goodnight Ryan. You're gonna stay, right?"

"Yeah, bud. I'll be in the guest room," he says. Next to him, Sara nods. 

"You can borrow his sweats again," she says, "although you might have to do a walk of shame tomorrow."

"I can borrow one of Shane's shirts," Ryan says. "Nobody will notice."

"Whatever you want," Sara agrees. "Make yourself at home, okay?" She leans in and kisses him on the cheek. It's not the first time she's done it, but it feels meaningful, today. "We love you Ry."

"Love you too," Ryan says. He gives Sara a quick hug and rubs his hand along Shane's back. "Wake me if you need me, and otherwise, I'll see you bright and early."

Shane makes a content noise, already falling asleep. Ryan leaves their room and goes to the guest room.

The sweats he wore last time he spent the night are folded on the dresser. Sara obviously expected him to stay.

He changes into them and crawls into bed. His head hardly hits the pillow before he's dead asleep.


	2. Buzz

When his alarm goes off in the morning, the first thing he notices is that his ankle hurts like hell.

The second is that he really needs to pee.

The third is that his girlfriend is fast asleep, arms wrapped around his belly like an octopus.

Right. He sprained his ankle yesterday, Sara's a jet pack, and Ryan's asleep in the guest room.

He debates for a moment if he should try to wake Sara, or just call Ryan.

Ryan is a much lighter sleeper, and that's what decides it. Well, that, and Sara's tiny. She's not physically going to be much help even if he can wake her.

He grabs his phone and dials Ryan. From his own bed, he can hear him groan and answer the phone.

"'lo? he mumbles, barely awake.

"I gotta get up and I can't," Shane says.

He hears a soft sigh. "Okay, I'm coming. Is Sara decent?"

He carefully glances over his shoulder. Her hair is everywhere, but she's got full pajamas on and her shirt isn't rucked up or anything. "Yep," he replies. "Please hurry. I've gotta pee."

He hears the phone call end, and seconds later, there's a tap on the door. 

"Yeah," Shane says, and Ryan comes in. He's dressed in Shane's sweats and his hair is sticking straight up. 

"Okay, big guy," Ryan says quietly. "Here we go."

He pulls the covers back and carefully eases the pillows out. Even so, it hurts so much that Shane swears a short blue streak. None of this rouses Sara even slightly. Ryan takes his hand, helps him extract himself from her grip and sit upright, then gives him his crutches

It's when he's trying to stand that he fully realizes how low to the ground their bed is. There's no goddamn way.

"I can't do it," he says. "Fuck. Get me a cup to pee in; guess I live here now."

"Gross," Ryan says. "That's not a thing that's happening. Come on, grab my shoulders."

Ryan has to do most of the work to get him on his feet, but he does it without complaining, and finally Shane is standing with the aid of his crutches. He begins to limp to the bathroom, with Ryan spotting behind him.

Again, he gets him in place in front of the toilet, but this time he says, "So help me, Shane, if you try to hop to the sink without your crutches, I will spank you, injured or not." His hand is on Shane's shoulder.

"I'm not even little!" Shane protests. 

"Then I'll spank you big," Ryan says. "It wouldn't be the first time. Don't try me."

He looks serious, and Shane decides that he's not going to risk it. 

He takes care of business and hobbles to the sink (with his crutches) to wash his hands. Ryan knocks at the door but immediately comes in to find Shane balanced against the sink, crutches beside him.

"Damn, I didn't even get a chance to shave yet," Shane says. "I was listening to your demands."

"It's weird standing out there in your bedroom while Sara's sleeping," Ryan says. "I just kept imagining her waking up and being like, what the fuck, why is there a strange man in here watching me snore."

"Don't call yourself strange," Shane teases. "I'd say slightly abnormal at best. And she's not going to wake up until at least three alarms go off." He opens his shave kit and gets started prepping his face. "She's the deepest sleeper I've ever known. All that fuss out there and she didn't even twitch."

Ryan shrugs. "It felt creepy. Got an extra disposable?" he asks. Shane points at the drawer by his knee.

"Use one of Sara's. I don't get disposables but even though she's got a nice one, she's always got extra cheapies too."

They shave in a relatively companionable silence. Ryan grimaces a little as he scrapes the foam off his face with the pink razor.

"The handle on this is weird," he says. "It's so long and skinny."

"I think it's easier when you're trying to shave legs," Shane says. "They're much farther away."

"Oh, yeah I suppose." Ryan bends over the sink and rinses his face. He sticks the razor in the pocket of his pajama pants and watches as Shane finishes up. It's slower going for him since he's trying to shave and balance at the same time.

Shane is really glad Ryan doesn't offer to help though. He doesn't want to fall into subspace before trying to go to work.

In the bedroom, he can hear gentle music. Alarm 1, then. There are some fumbling noises, and it silences.

With a little work, he's clean-shaven. Deodorant is also an interesting challenge, and he can see Ryan restraining himself from offering to help, instead keeping his hands near Shane's waist in case he tips. He offers the stick to Ryan, who shakes his head.

"I always have some in my bag," he says.

"Too bad you don't have extra clothes in there," Shane says, and Ryan shakes his head. "I'll grab some clothes and get dressed in the living room," he tells Ryan. "You wanna borrow a shirt?"

Ryan nods. "Try to make it bland," he remarks. "I don't want the whole office to know I'm doing a walk of shame today."

Shane snorts. "I'm sure I've got something," he says dryly. "Long or short sleeve."

"Long," Ryan says. "Maybe a sweater too."

Shane limps to the closet with Ryan as his shadow and pulls out a grey Henley and black crew neck sweater for Ryan, as well as an entire outfit for himself. "You want clean socks?" he asks.

"Please," Ryan says. He takes the clothes in one arm and sort of shepherds him out of the bedroom and into the main living space. He pulls out a chair at the table that Shane gratefully sinks into. The crutches get leaned against the table.

"Before I get dressed, will you please bring me some pain meds?" Shane asks. His ankle is throbbing. 

"Sure," Ryan says. He grabs the prescription pills from the coffee table where they left them last night, then pauses. "You wanna start with codeine or Ibuprofen?"

From the bedroom, Shane can hear Sara's soft, gentle music alarm go off again, and be abruptly silenced. There is no sign of movement after that.

Shane knows he probably should stick to the ibuprofen at work, but his ankle hurts so fucking bad. "It's BuzzFeed," he says. "Give me the good stuff. My ankle is a mess."

Ryan just nods and passes him the bottle, then goes to grab him a glass of water. Shane dry swallows the pill, but chases it with the water once Ryan brings it to him.

"Thanks, little guy," he says. Ryan bumps his shoulder deliberately with his hip.

"You got it," he says. "I'm gonna make some coffee."

"Oh god, please," Shane says. "You know where it is."

While Ryan sets up a pot of coffee, Shane s changes his shirt. That, thankfully, is still easy. He puts on a flannel too.

He's just looking at his chinos when Ryan carries over two cups of coffee. "You remember the issue we had with pants yesterday?" he asks. Ryan eyes the pants.

"You don't have anything that's a little more wide-legged?"

"I left my JNCOs in 2003, where they belong," Shane says. He takes a long pull from the coffee mug. 

"Brat," Ryan remarks instinctively. "What about track pants or something?"

It's gonna look stupid. Shane can't find it in him to care. Pretty much anything they might want him to film is going to be waist up, especially since he's temporary handicapped. 

"Second drawer, left hand dresser," Shane says.

Ryan takes a deep, bracing breath, and goes.

He's fast, coming back out in less than 15 seconds, gray track pants in hand. "At least they will fit over the ankle," he says. "You won't exactly be a fashion icon."

"I'm always a fashion icon," Shane says. "I mean, not necessarily a good one, but always iconic."

Once again, there's a lot of work involved. He stands up, leaning on the counter, and manages to get out of the pajama pants with Ryan's help, but then they both realize that he should probably change his underwear too. 

They look at each other for a second, and Shane breaks first, laughing out loud. Ryan, on the other hand, just sighs.

He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a pair of towels. He puts one over the kitchen chair and hands Shane the other. "So you can cover your junk," he says.

Shane manages to pull the back of his boxer briefs down and then sit on the chair. He drapes the second towel over himself to preserve some modesty and eases them down his legs.

It's definitely weird that Ryan is helping him put on underwear, but they've gotten this far and well, he doesn't want to wait here half naked until Sara wakes up. 

Then again, their relationship isn't exactly what it used to be. If he can let Ryan feed him from a sippy cup and beat him with a flogger, this shouldn't be that weird either. Relatively.

Ryan's getting the track pants on his legs too. "So you only have to stand once," he explains. Shane pulls them to above his knees.

"Alright, buddy," Ryan says. "Stand up. Don't fall." He helps him to his feet--well, foot--and Shane steadies himself against the counter with one hand and covers his dick with the other.

He's barely realized that he has exactly zero hands left to fix his clothes when Ryan is pulling his boxer briefs up, followed by the track pants. It's fast, anyway, even if it makes him feel like a child. He doesn't have time to feel little right now, so he shoves it aside. "Okay, sit before you tip," Ryan tells him. 

"Jesus, what a morning," Shane mutters, doing as he's told. He drops the towel on the floor, because he knows Sara will not want a dick-towel on the table. He doesn't particularly want that either. "Guess we're closer than ever."

"It's not like I've never seen your dick before," Ryan says. "I mean, I'm not checking you out or anything, but we've shared a lot of hotel rooms."

Shane knows that of course; he's seen Ryan's a couple times too. "It just feels weird, okay?" he mutters. "It's been quite a few years since somebody else had to help me get dressed.

"Maybe I should have pushed you into little space first," Ryan says. "Might have made it less weird." Shane shakes his head.

"Nope. None of that. We've got work in like, a little over an hour and a half."

"Fair," Ryan says. "Now we should eat."

A screaming noise echoes from the master bedroom, and Ryan jumps about a foot. "God I hate that alarm," he says vehemently. It finally turns off and Shane can hear movement from Sara.

"You wanna make eggs and toast?" Shane asks. "I'd do it, but… You know."

"Yeah, just a minute." Ryan grabs the shirt, socks, and sweater from Shane, and heads back into the guest room.

* * *

It's a lot easier to get himself dressed than to get Shane dressed. He pulls on the borrowed clothes along with yesterday's jeans and heads back out into the kitchen.

Shane, thankfully, hasn't moved from where he left him. They discuss what exactly they're hoping to get done at work while Ryan scrambles up most of a carton of eggs with some shredded cheese, and makes 10 pieces of toast.

"Damn, are you starving or something?" Shane asks. Ryan looks at him blankly.

"I figured you and Sara would want to eat too," he said. "But yeah. You're no lightweight, and I'm pretty sure I've gotten a full workout in already."

"Are you calling me fat?" Shane asks, pretending to be insulted.

"It's just big bones, buddy," Ryan replies, loading up two plates. "How many pieces of toast?"

"Two is plenty," Shane says. Ryan adds four to his own plate, and piles them high with cheesy eggs. He carries them over and offers a plate to Shane.

"I'll grow into them, especially after a meal like this," Shane jokes. Ryan stares to the ceiling for a moment. 

"God I hope not," he says, shaking his head. "You're plenty big enough. Here. Eat."

"Yes, mother," Shane says, and gets a light smack to the back of the head for the sass.

"You beating up my boyfriend, Ryan?" Sara finally comes out, dressed in a green sweater, skinny jeans, and Converse high tops. 

"Only when he asks for it," Ryan replies swiftly. He takes an enormous bite from the first of his egg sandwiches.

Sara grins. "Fair," she says. "Ooh, yum. Is some of this for me?" 

"Of course. I made coffee too," Ryan replies.

"I mean, I would have helped," Shane says, "if I had even been capable of getting out of bed. Or changing my clothes. Or anything really, besides sitting here like a lawn ornament."

"You're a cute lawn ornament," Sara says, kissing Shane good morning.

"If a slightly broken one. Like, you had a run-in with a lawnmower," Ryan adds.

Shane laughs but also flips him off.

Sara makes herself a plate, with two pieces of toast and a scoop of eggs, then pours herself a cup of coffee and comes over to the table. "Hey, do you want the rest of these?" She's looking at Ryan and lifting the pan.

"Sure," he says, because if they're not going to eat them, he hates to see it go to waste. Sara scoops the rest onto her plate too.

She comes over, tilts the eggs and toast she doesn't want onto Ryan's plate, then sits down at the head of the table between himself and Shane. He's surprised when she leans towards him and pecks him on the cheek. "Thanks, Ryan," she says, and then just as quick, she's digging into breakfast.

When he glances at Shane, he's smiling. Of course, that could be the codeine kicking in. But he doesn't necessarily think so.

"Uh… You're welcome," Ryan says. 

* * *

They usually scramble out the door, but of course, there isn't any scrambling to be done today. 

Shane seems to be getting a slightly better handle on the crutches at least. He's not fast, but the little grey feet stay in alignment with the rest of him instead of randomly flying out to the side. Ryan's still shadowing him though, ready to brace him if he falls.

"You aren't subtle," Sara warns him as he solicitously helps Shane fold himself into the passenger seat. She sees Shane wince as he bumps his ankle against the door.

"I don't care," Ryan says. "Just imagine if he fucked up the other ankle too. You think this sucks..."

It's a look into the mind of Ryan Bergara, or more specifically, his anxiety. 

"I think it's sweet," Shane says, teasing slightly.

"It's very sweet," Sara agrees, "but it's gonna kick all that gossip at work back into high gear. You okay with that?"

Ryan's ears are a little red, but she's pretty sure that's more about them calling him "sweet" than worrying about the gossip. "Fuck it. He's hurt. I don't care what people think." He sounds no-nonsense.

"Aw, Ryan, I'm touched," Shane says, shutting his door. 

"Yeah, touched in the head." Ryan crawls in the back with both of their work bags. "Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

Curly's running late as always, which means that he's been blessed by God and all the saints today, because he pulls into a parking spot right next to Sara, Shane…and Ryan Bergara. Who does not live anywhere near Shane and Sara, and thus never carpools with them. 

He must have stayed at their place last night.

Sara's hovering, weighed down with three different work bags, while Ryan is standing in the shadow of the passenger-side door with a pair of crutches. Shane is awkwardly swinging his legs out of the car.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Curly asks casually, getting out of the car and swinging his bag into his shoulder. "Did that happen on the Knott's promo?"

Two groans and a giggle meet his words. 

"Nope," Shane says. "Nope, this was aquired on the thrill ride known as--"

"Ryan Bergara?" Curly can't help himself.

Ryan's face turns bright red, and Shane lets out a cackle. He does not blush. Curly finds it fascinating that he never seems to get rattled. Sara, meanwhile, is covering her face with her hand, but he sees a smile under there.

"--getting out of the Uber," Shane finishes. 

"You're incorrigible, Curly," Sara says.

"How the hell does that happen getting out of an Uber?" Curly asks. 

"That's what I wondered," Sara says.

"If he hadn't gotten hurt, it would have been pretty funny," Ryan says. "He was there and then suddenly he was gone, and his shoe flew up in the air like a cartoon." He hands the crutches off to Shane and backs up a little. "Be careful," he warns him.

"I got it," Shane says. It's awkward, but he manages to swing himself up into his good foot, but bangs slightly off the open door. Ryan is right there to steady him with a hand on his waist

"Yeah, you've totally got it," Ryan says, slightly sarcastic. He backs up so Shane can start crutching his way along, and reaches his hand towards Sara without taking his eyes off a slow, encumbered Shane. She passes him his backpack, which he puts on, and then reaches out again. Shane's bag gets flung over his chest.

"What a nice little _ burrito _ you make," Curly jokes.

"Burrito?" Shane asks, glancing back at Ryan. Ryan rolls his eyes. "Like, with sour cream?"

"Cuz I look like I'm loaded down for a trip through the Grand Canyon," he says. "Little burro."

"Very good, Bergara," Curly nods approvingly. "We might get a little Spanish out of you after all."

"I already speak a _ little _ Spanish," Ryan replied. "It's just…very, very little, and mostly food, family, and curse words." He comes up directly behind Shane, while Sara takes her spot at his side.

There's really no reason for Curly to join this slow-moving pack, but he's pretty curious. "So did you break it?" he asks.

"Nah, just a sprain," Shane says. "Should be walking around again normally in a week or so."

"That's too bad," Curly says. "I mean, good it's not broken, but a week at this pace is gonna be a pain in the ass."

"You're tellin' me!" Shane and Ryan chime in unison, and then throw little amused glares at each other, like it's some kind of inside joke.

It's irritating how cute they are sometimes.

Once they get in the building properly, Shane picks up a little more speed. He still fairly awkward, but he seems less nervous that he's gonna fall on his face now that he's on carpet. Ryan relaxes too.

Sara had never seemed too worried. Curly supposes that if he had to pick someone to be ready to catch _ his _ boyfriend if he swooned or whatever, Ryan Bergara and those freaking biceps would be a trustworthy choice. 

They pause when they get to the place where the hallway spills into the main office, and Shane carefully leans down to kiss Sara. "See you later," he says.

She smiles. "Bye, boys! I'll see you at lunch." She pats the small of Ryan's back. And then she's off, heading towards her desk in the art department.

"I've got a meeting to run to," Curly says, turning in the opposite direction of where Shane and Ryan's desks are. "Have a good one, guys! Hope your foot feels better!"

At least this isn't gossip that could possibly get blamed on him, because the whole office is calling out to Shane as he passes, asking what's going on with his foot.

He simply _ has _ to talk to someone about this.

* * *

Ryan gets Shane settled at his desk, crutches nearby, water bottle at hand.

"Thanks, man," Shane says. "I think since I'm kinda stuck here, I'm gonna work on that spec script."

Ryan remembers him telling him the concept yesterday in the doctor's office. "Sounds good," he says. "I'm gonna go talk to Katie about next season's Unsolved budget, but I'll be back. I've got my phone if you need me."

Shane rolls his eyes. "Alright, alright. I'm sure I'll be fine for a little while. Shoo." He makes a dismissive motion with his hands.

"Jerk," Ryan says, but he takes him at his word and goes looking for her.

Like he thought, their budget has been scaled down, but she thinks with some creativity, they can get good episodes closer to home. "We'll probably have to do a couple more road trips this season," she says.

Ryan doesn't particularly mind the idea. "I'll start doing some preliminary research," he says. "There's plenty of haunted stuff around here too."

He thanks Katie and heads back towards his desk. On the way past the Tasty kitchen, he's stopped by Rie and Andrew. They are both wearing aprons.

"Hi Ryan!" Rie greets him, sunny as always. "I like your sweater!"

Ryan holds back a wince. "Thanks, Rie," he says. "What are you making today?"

"It's a surprise," Andrew says. He's studying Ryan closely...nope. Nope, he's studying Ryan's sweater, which is, of course, Shane's sweater. "Isn't that Shane's sweater?"

Well, shit. "Uh...I was cold," he says.

Andrew's eyebrows go up. "Uh huh," he says in that flat, unreadable way he sometimes has. 

"It looks nice on you," Rie says. He's not sure if it's helping or making things worse.

"Thanks," he says. "Uh, save me a bit of whatever surprise you're making, okay?" 

"Will do," Andrew says. Ryan gives an awkward little wave and keeps moving. Once he's around the corner, he pulls out his phone.

> ** _Ryan Bergara: So Andrew noticed I'm wearing your sweater_ **
> 
> ** _Shane Madej: lol how? It's just a black sweater._ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: brace yourselves, folks. Winter is coming._ **

* * *

"He was cold, Andrew," Steven says. "Come on. I really think you're reading too much into it."

"I'm just saying, I don't lend you my sweater," Andrew replies. 

"You seriously wouldn't let me borrow your sweater if I was freezing? That's cold!" Steven laughs at his own joke.

Andrew huffs. "You're an idiot," he says fondly.

* * *

"That's Shane's sweater," Freddie says to Jen. "And yesterday's jeans."

Jen's eyebrows raise. "How the hell do you know that?" she asks. She doesn't spend much time paying attention to Ryan Bergara's clothing choices, but to her eyes, he looks exactly the same as always.

"Those jeans have a little bit of wear detail on the pockets," Fred says.

"I mean, I wear the same jeans a few days in a row sometimes," Jen says. "Laundry sucks."

"Yeah, but do you wear them with your best friend's shirt?" Freddie little grin is satisfied. 

"It's just a black sweater!" There's no conceivable way that she can tell that sweater apart from any other.

"Look how long the arms are," Freddie insists. "And also, there's a subtle black on black stripe on each side."

Ryan's long past now, so Jen can't even check it out. "How the hell do you notice those kinds of things?" 

"Fashion is kinda my thing, Jen," Freddie says patiently.

"I guess so," Jen says. "You've got an eagle eye." She cocks an eyebrow. "What do you think it means?"

* * *

"They carpooled today," Kristen points out. "Maybe Ryan had to stay at their place last night."

"Yeah, but why?" Freddie asks. 

Kristen shakes her head. "Seriously? You saw Shane hobbling around, didn't you? Do you really think Sara would be any help if he went down like a tree in the forest?"

Freddie shrugs. "Okay, I get your point," she says. "But still, the sweater!"

"Oh my God, Fred. If you had to stay the night at my place, I'm sure I'd give you something clean to wear. That you'd drown in." 

"Kinda like Ryan in that sweater?" Freddie's voice is sly.

"Fred, no." Kristen coughs. "But uh… Just out of curiosity, how much is in the pool now?"

"I heard it was up to $475," Freddie says, unabashed.

"You might clean up."

* * *

"Maya, it was so cute," Curly says. They're eating an early lunch on the picnic tables outside. "He was hovering around him like, like a bee to a very, very tall flower!"

"Poetic," Maya remarks. "But you know he broke his ankle. That doesn't necessarily mean anything. Shane doesn't seem that skilled with the crutches. He probably just doesn't want him to fall and break his head open. That would kinda throw a wrench into their next season, don't you think?"

Curly thinks of his promise to Sara. The things he does for his friends. "I know it doesn't _ necessarily _ mean anything, but I'm saying it could! Come on, they'd be really cute together."

Maya looks properly scandalized. "Sara and Shane love each other!" she says.

"I mean, obviously," Curly says. Anyone with eyes can see that. "But, you know, you can love more than one person at a time."

Fuck. He is terrible at keeping secrets.

"Oh, come on," Maya says dismissively. "You just wanna win the pool."

Curly sighs, but it's partially relief that Maya doesn't think anything of what he said. "I mean, I could use an extra couple hundred right now," he says.

"Couldn't we all. My landlord just upped my rent by fifty bucks a month! And he still hasn't fixed that window."

"Seriously? I think you can call the fire marshal about it if he doesn't do it soon…"

* * *

> ** _Shane Madej: So not to be presumptuous, but do you think you could stay for a day or two? _ **
> 
> ** _Shane Madej: Both because we enjoy your company and because I am…somewhat helpless at the moment._ **
> 
> ** _Shane Madej: In case it isn't patently obvious, I am aiming this question at Ryan._ **
> 
> ** _Ryan Bergara: ...Sara?_ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: The question is from me too._ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: But also, you're always welcome, even when Shane isn't incapacitated._ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: I kind of thought you knew that._ **

Ryan finds that he actually wants to spend a couple days with them. He likes staying with them, the quiet domesticity of it all. Life at the Frat House can be fun, of course, but it's also somewhat chaotic and a bit much at times.

> ** _Ryan Bergara: Sure, why not? I could use a few days away from the Frat Pack anyway. _ **
> 
> ** _Ryan Bergara: But that means I gotta run home on my lunch break and get a few clothes._ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: You wanna take the SUV? Cheaper than an Uber._ **
> 
> ** _Ryan Bergara: sure, thanks._ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: swing by and get the keys any time_ **

* * *

Sara has her headphones on, working away on an excuse to try straightening her hair (for internet clicks!) when Ryan taps her on the shoulder.

"Hey, how's it going?" 

"Think I found a way to get BuzzFeed to pay for me to get a blowout," she says with a grin. "So that's nice."

Ryan laughs. "Kill two birds with one stone," he says. 

"We've all done it, Mr. Knott's Berry Farm promo," Sara replies. Ryan gives a half shrug smile.

"No judgement here," he says. "I told Shane I was leaving but I'll be back after lunch."

Sara digs in her bag and pulls out her keys. "Alright. Be safe." She drops them into his waiting hand.

"Will do," he says, patting her shoulder.

He walks off with the keys. She turns back to her computer, only to notice that there are more than a few sets of eyes on her.

She sighs. One of the interns stands up and nonchalantly heads towards the break room.

_ Great. _

* * *

Ryan gets back with his suitcase (which he leaves in the SUV) and goes immediately to check on Shane.

He's not at his desk, which immediately gives Ryan a mini heart attack before he reminds himself that Shane is a big boy. And he's probably getting lunch. Or peeing. Or talking about the Postmortem with the crew.

His crutches aren't there either, so at least that's good.

He still has to force himself not to go looking for him. Instead, he checks out the break room and scavenges some leftover veggie pizza labeled "free" from the communal fridge because he forgot to actually eat during his lunch break. Then he returns to his desk.

Shane still isn't there.

Fuck it. He pulls out his phone.

> ** _Ryan Bergara: Where'd you go?_ **
> 
> ** _Shane Madej: I'm heading towards the set._ **
> 
> ** _Ryan Bergara: already? We've got half an hour before call time..._ **
> 
> ** _Shane Madej: I'm not exactly fast_ **.

Ryan goes on the hunt. He catches up with Shane at the entrance to the lot between the main office and the filming space.

Shane is sitting on a small bench just inside the door. "Hey man," he says, patting the space next to him.

Ryan sits down. "Taking a rest?" he asks, studying Shane's face. He looks tired and a little drawn. 

Shane nods. "Yeah. I didn't think it would feel this difficult, but I guess my upper body strength could use a little work.

"When did you last take a pain pill?" 

"I took another Advil around noon," Shane said. "But I left the good ones at home."

"On purpose?" Ryan's voice is a little strident, and he immediately brings it down. "Shane…"

"Believe me, I know," Shane says. "Bad decision. But it makes me feel kinda weird and sleepy."

Ryan sighs. "How bad is the pain?" he asks.

"Uh… It's not great."

Ryan isn't sure what to do about this. It's a Friday, so they can probably get away with leaving early, but they do have a Postmortem to shoot first. 

"Alright, we're gonna make this the quickest Postmortem we've ever shot, and then we're taking off early," Ryan says, watching Shane's face. He looks relieved, which tells Ryan a lot. "Do you think you're up to it, big guy?"

He's actually surprised when Shane shakes his head, but quickly re-evaluates. "Alright, lemme call...Curly," he decides quickly. "I bet he'll help out if he isn't busy.

* * *

Curly's surprised to get a Slack message from Ryan asking if he wants to do a Postmortem, but he easily agrees. He meets up with Ryan on the library set. "Where's your boy?" he asks.

Ryan gives him a look that might be surprise, which quickly becomes a head shake. "His ankle is killing him," he says. "I made him go back to his desk and put that leg up."

"Cracking the whip, huh?" Curly nods knowingly. "Good, though. He's looking a mess today. It's hard to watch him hobble around on those things."

"Oh my God, Curly," he says with that little wheeze of his. "I don't suppose you watched the Mothman episode," Ryan says.

"Excuse you, I absolutely did." Curly actually does like to watch Unsolved. They're just creepy enough to get a good chill going without keeping him from sleeping. 

"Well, good," Ryan says. "I wanna film this thing in half an hour or less and get out of here. Shane left his pain pills at home."

"We can do it, I think," Curly says. 

They absolutely manage. He can tell that Ryan's thoughts are, more than anything, about Shane.

"Thanks, man," Ryan says as soon as they wrap. "I owe you one."

"Oh, I'll collect," Curly jokes. "Now go take your lamb home."

With a laugh and a raise of his hand, Ryan practically jogs for the main building, leaving Curly with the crew.

"Is it just me, or is that definitely Shane's shirt?" one of the interns asks quietly.

Oh God, if he doesn't get out of here, he's going to be tempted beyond his ability to withstand it. He turns and makes a hard left out of the library set.

_ To hell with it, it's Friday. _ He's going home too.

* * *

> _ **Ryan Bergara: Shane and I are cutting out early because he left his pain pills at home. You coming with?** _
> 
> _**Sara Rubin: Yeah. Meet me at the parking garage**_.

* * *

They're on the way home when Shane says, "Um, I think I'm out of Advil too."

He and Sara are mostly healthy people. He has a small bottle that had been in the bottom of his work bag forever, but it's nearly empty. 

He's gonna need more before the thing heals, that's for sure.

He shakes his bottle of Advil for emphasis. A couple pills rattles around its plastic confines.

Ryan taps Sara's shoulder from his spot in the backseat. "Do you have more?" he asks her.

She shakes her head. "I mean, I have some in my bag, but probably not enough until his ankle heals. It was on the Target list for next time."

"Let's just stop at Walgreens," Ryan says. "There's one over maybe two blocks ahead."

"Sorry, guys," he mutters. He feels pretty burdensome.

"Oh, stop," Ryan says. "It's not a big deal, Shane." His voice is easy.

"We needed it anyway," Sara adds. She pulls into the lot, and Ryan's already taking off his seatbelt.

"I'll be back," he says, and he's already out of the vehicle and heading for the Walgreens door. Sara sighs.

"I love him," she says.

"Me too," Shane replies. 

She looks at him in the rearview. "How bad is the pain?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "Was dumb to leave the pills at home," he answers.

"Yeah it was," she tells him frankly. "Guess you learned the hard way. But I'm sorry you're hurting."

Shane just nods. They sit quietly, listening to the music playing.

"We're gonna have to do something nice for him once you're back on both feet," Sara says after awhile.

Shane considers this. "What were you thinking?" he asks. She shrugs.

"I dunno. We'll think of something."

Shane leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. He's hurting a lot, and tired from all the stress of today.

"Shane, we're home." Sara's touching his arm.

"Hmm?" He doesn't remember falling asleep, but sure enough, they're in front of their place.

"Come on buddy," Ryan says. He's opening the car door now, crutches in one hand. "You need a hand?"

He carefully removes his legs from the car and lurches out. The crutches feel a little unsteady under him, but Ryan is right there, ready to catch him if he loses his balance. 

The walk inside feels like it's miles long, but eventually they make it.

He sits on the couch and lets Ryan put this crutches to the side. Sara hands him a glass of water and his bottle of pills. He takes one.

"You wanna rest for a little bit?" Ryan asks. It sounds more like a suggestion than a question, but either way, Shane is so ready.

"Yeah," he says, tossing a throw pillow towards the end of the couch. 

Ryan grabs another. "Lay down then." Shane struggles to a horizontal position and feels Ryan putting pillows carefully under his leg, then easing off his shoes, taking special care with the bad foot.

"Here babe, do you want to watch anything?" Sara asks, handing him the remote. He hunts through his Netflix queue sideways. He chooses a stand-up special at random and lays back.

Ryan comes back inside holding his suitcase and a plastic bag. Shane hadn't realized he'd left. Ryan holds out a small black and purple object. "Here buddy. Saw this in the Walgreens and thought of you."

Shane reaches out and takes it. It's soft and fluffy. He brings it closer because he's taken off his glasses. It's a little stuffed bat about the size of a softball with purple eyes and sparkly accents on its belly and wings..

"Aww," Shane mumbles. "That's super cute. Altogether just the perfect amount of bat. Thanks." He cuddles the little thing to his chest. It's nice, that Ryan was thinking of him. Even if it was through the memory of too many goddamn bats. This little stuffie one is pretty adorable.

Ryan's got a soft smile on his face. "You're welcome, big guy." He reaches out and gently ruffles his hair. "Get a little rest, okay?"

Shane nods. Ryan grabs his suitcase; Shane can hear him carrying it down the hall to the guest room.

He is barely watching the comedy special he chose. It's probably good; he can't really tell. The codeine is kicking in.

He can hear domesticity happening in the kitchen, Ryan and Sara talking in low tones as they work together making whatever they've decided is going to be dinner. He doesn't really hear their words.

It's cosy and soft and lovely. His eyes drift closed.


	3. Rub a Dub Dub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: incidental soap in the mouth, discussion of mouth soaping and some upset about it. Be aware if that may be triggering for you. 
> 
> Disclaimer:This is fictional. I am not making any claims about the real lives of anyone whose name or likeness is used in this story.

They wake Shane up, get him to eat a little bit, and watch TV together on the couch until he starts falling asleep again.

"Come on, let's get you tucked in," Sara says. She takes his little bat from his hand. "Ry'll help you."

"I can do it," he says, reaching for his crutches.

"Mm-hmm," Ryan says indulgently, because while Shane's crutch work has improved, he's not great. Ryan's theory is that his height gives him a weird center of gravity and makes balancing more difficult. "Just let me help, bud."

Ryan stands up and helps Shane rise from the couch. He's a little wobbly, and Ryan's inclined to blame the medication. 

"You want to get pajamas on?" Ryan asks. He's not surprised when Shane shakes his head vehemently enough that he has to hold his waist to balance him.

"No. Sleeping in this," Shane says. 

They are comfortable enough. He sees Sara shrug. "It's fine," she says. 

He helps Shane get to the bathroom, then into bed. Sara helps him arrange the pillows under Shane for comfort. She hands Shane the little bat, which he tucks under his chin.

It's pretty sweet.

Sara gives him a hug. "Thanks Ry," she says softly against his chest. He hugs her back, because that's apparently a thing they do now, and honestly, he likes it.

There's something about that honest, platonic affection that's soothing to his soul.

"You're welcome. Night, Sara." He looks over to Shane, who is watching them through sleepy eyes. He looks pleased. "Night, Shane." He releases her and rubs Shane's shoulder since a hug is impractical.

Shane's hand comes up and squeezes his. "Love you," he mumbles. He's already half-asleep.

"Love you two." It's a lot easier to say than it used to be.

He leaves them and crosses the hall to the guest room. 

He changes into his own pajamas this time, and crawls into bed.

The next morning, he wakes up to Sara standing at the bedside, gently shaking his arm. "Hey, Ryan, sorry to wake you, but Shane's gotta use the bathroom," she says apologetically. "I tried to help him up, but he's a little unwieldy."

He groans and stretches. "Okay, coming," he says, voice froggy with sleep.

He follows Sara back into the master bedroom. Shane is sitting on the side of the bed, grimacing. 

"Morning," Ryan says. "How's the ankle?"

"It hurts," Shane says. 

"I already plied him with painkillers," Sara says. "Then we got stuck."

Ryan hefts Shane to his feet and helps him to the bathroom. "I'm gonna need a minute," Shane tells him.

"Okay," Ryan says. "Holler when you're done." 

He goes out to the kitchen where Sara is peeking into the oven. It smells really good.

"That looks amazing," Ryan tells her. She smiles.

"It's pretty easy. You just mix it all in the skillet and bake it. It's Shane's mom's recipe." She grins at him. "I figured I'd spoil him a little."

Ryan nods. "I mean, I don't want him to get used to it, but the ankle deserves a little spoiling."

"You're so full of shit," Sara says cheerfully. "You spoil him more than I ever would."

It's a fair statement. Ryan just shrugs. "What time did you wake up?"

"Eh, I was up at nine," she says. "I threw this together and then went to do a little drawing, and then Shane woke up."

"Whatcha working on?" Ryan asks. "Business or pleasure?"

"Pleasure," she says. "Just taking some time to be creative. We were going to do some errands today, but uh…that's obviously not happening anymore, since Shane's out of commission."

"What kind of errands?" Ryan asks. 

Sara sighs. "Groceries, and the oil needs changing. I can still run that over there. I just...I dunno, I worry."

"I mean, I'll be here," Ryan says. 

"Oh, I know," Sara says. "I would have cancelled the appointment otherwise." She pats his chest. "Couldn't just leave him here helpless."

Ryan laughs, but her faith in him brings up a warmth in his chest. "We'll hold down the fort," he says. "When's the appointment?"

"Eleven," she replies. "I'll probably use Instacart for the groceries instead."

"Okay, great," Ryan says. "It's gonna take some time to--"

A loud clatter comes from the vicinity of the master bedroom, and Shane yells, "Fuck!" 

He and Sara both bolt for Shane without a word.

"Shane?" Sara blows through the door. Ryan has to brace his arms on the door frame so he doesn't run her over.

Shane's sitting on the toilet, looking frustrated and embarrassed. "Jesus, guys, I'm fine. I just dropped the crutches." It's fallen just out of his reach. He could probably get to it if he had to, but it wouldn't be easy.

"Oh, sorry," Ryan says, looking down at the top of Sara's hair and wondering if he should feel embarrassed that he broke in on Shane.

"Yeah. Um...I hate to admit it, but I might need some help." Shane sounds annoyed. "I don't think I can get up."

Sara looks up at Ryan. "This seems like a job for you," she says, ducking under his arm. "I'll go get breakfast on the table, okay?"

There's an awkward pause. Shane looks like a storm cloud.

"I guess I'm glad you wipe while you're sitting," Ryan says to break the tension. Shane snorts.

"Oh God. If you broke an ankle, you'd be so fucked." Shane sighs grumpily. "This sucks."

"I know, buddy," Ryan says. He comes in and picks the crutches off the floor.

"I'm just really tired of this already, and it's probably going to be like this for at least a few more days." Shane shakes his head and uses the corner of the counter to help him get onto his foot. His free hand tugs his clothes back into place, and then he leans on the counter to wash his hands.

Ryan is tempted to smack him on the backside, because he's leaning over in the right position for it, and he's supposed to use his freaking crutches, but he didn't even ask Ryan for them. He didn't hop, though, and the position is stable; he's not about to tip over... 

Fuck it. He smacks him once, just hard enough to make a good, loud noise. 

"Hey!" Shane yelps. "You've got my crutches! What was I supposed to do?"

Ryan laughs. "Oh, so you do remember what I said," he teases. "I wasn't sure."

"That's not fair, Ry," Shane says, but at least he's smiling now too. 

"Too bad," Ryan tells him. He wonders if Shane is going to want to spend some time little today. It would make sense, seeing that he can't do all that much for himself anyway and Ryan's right here. He hands over the crutches. "Come on, buddy. Sara made something that looks delicious for breakfast."

Shane's eyes brighten. "Scramble skillet?" he asks. 

"I dunno. Guess you'll have to go out there and see. Slowly," he adds when Shane tries to move faster. "I don't want you to fall."

They make their way to the kitchen, and Shane sits at the table. Ryan washes his hands and helps Sara carry the plates to the table. A full grin is on Shane's face now when he sees the food.

"Aw, Sara, that was nice," he says. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she says. 

It is delicious, and Ryan has no trouble putting away two servings. The surprising thing is that Shane does too. He's not always a great eater.

Ryan rinses off the dishes and loads them into the dishwasher while Sara and Shane make a grocery list on Instacart. He can hear them discussing what kind of meals they want this week, what staples they need to restock.

"You want anything, Ry?" Sara asks.

"Me?" he asks, surprised. 

"Yes, you doofus," Sara says. "You're gonna be here all weekend, right?"

She is right, of course; they literally asked him to stay the weekend. It still feels a little weird, but in a good way. "Uh, I dunno. I like burritos," he says. "But I'm not picky."

Shane laughs. "Any snacks you particularly want? Anything else?"

Ryan shrugs. "I mean, you have popcorn," he says. "I don't know. Chips Ahoy, maybe? Cheese balls?" He loves snacks.

"Anything for breakfast?" Sara says. 

"Maybe some Greek yogurt?" He's been trying to pump up the amount of protein in his diet lately. "Um, some kind of fruit?"

"Like what?" Sara asks.

"I dunno. Whatever you guys like." He puts one of the last dishes in the dishwasher and closes it. It's not full enough to run yet. Then he darts back to the guest room and grabs his wallet from the dresser. He pulls out a twenty.

When he tries to hand it to Sara, she shakes her head. "Nope. No way. We can feed you," she says firmly. He tries to hand it to Shane then, who makes a "hands off" gesture.

"Listen to the woman, Ry," he says. "You don't charge us for doing the dishes and we don't charge you for eating."

Ryan bites his lip. "Thanks, guys," he says, slightly uncomfortable. He gets that this is a relationship of give and take, but it still feels kind of odd. Surely he eats a lot more than he does dishes. He reluctantly tucks the bill in his pajama pocket.

"You're welcome," Sara says. She stands up from the table. "Alright. I'm going to run the SUV over to get the oil changed." She kisses Shane on the lips, and then leans over to kiss Ryan's cheek. "It shouldn't be that long."

"Okay," Shane says. "We'll try to stay out of trouble."

"See you later," Ryan says. She smiles, slips on a pair of sneakers, and grabs her bag before heading out of the house.

It's quiet as he and Shane sip their coffee.

Ryan touches his cheek where she kissed him. "Doesn't it bother you when Sara does that?" he asks. He hasn't shaved yet and it's still rough with stubble.

Shane looks up at him. "Does what?" he asks.

"Kisses me?" He drops his hand, because Shane is looking at it.

Shane frowns slightly. "Why would it bother me?" he asks. Then his eyes widen slightly. "Oh! Does it bother you?"

It doesn't. "No, no...I just…" Ryan feels stupid for mentioning it now because apparently he's got the instincts of a caveman. "I just figured, she's your girlfriend and maybe you wouldn't like it or something."

Shane actually laughs. "Really? All of this--" he gestures between them "--is totally cool but Sara hugs you or kisses your cheek and that's gonna be too much for me? Really?"

Well, when he puts it like that, it is kinda funny. Ryan laughs too.

"Okay, okay, good point," he says, sitting back down to finish his cup of coffee.

"I mean, she loves you, you idiot," Shane says. "Just like I do. That's why she does it. Don't you know that?" He sounds almost concerned.

Ryan has to blink at that, because he knows. He knew it before Shane said it, even if he had never put it in so many words. But it still makes him feel sort of emotional, in a really nice, accepted sort of way. "Oh," he says softly.

And then Shane leans in and kisses him lightly on the cheek. "This thing is real, you moron," he says fondly. Ryan feels himself flush slightly as that old frat boy instinct rears its ugly head, but he pushes it away. Just like when Sara did it, it's actually nice; it makes him feel loved. "You don't have to worry so much."

"Okay," he says, because he doesn't know what to say. But he takes Shane's hand and squeezes it, as a reassurance.

Shane squeezes back and takes another sip of coffee. 

"I really need a shower," he says, sniffing lightly towards his arm pit. "Maybe while Sara's gone, I can do that?"

Ryan raises his eyebrows, but rolls with the change of subject. "You cannot stand or balance for any significant length of time,' he points out. "How on Earth are you going to do that?"

Shane sighs. "I dunno. Is there a chair or something I could use?"

"I dunno," Ryan echoes. "It's your house, bud.  _ Is _ there a chair you can use?"

He can see Shane considering it, and he tries to think of one, but the kitchen chairs are wood, and the office chairs are fabric covered. "You do have a decently-sized tub," Ryan points out; it's attached to the shower but it is pretty big, with claw feet. "You wanna take a bath?"

Shane looks uncertain. "Um…" he says hesitantly.

Ryan thinks of how easily Shane just shunted his worries aside with a peck on the cheek. He knows he can do the same thing by appealing to Shane's little side. "We can do it while you're little," he says. "I'll even put bubbles in it if you have some."

He sees Shane's surprised look. "Really?" he says.

"Yep. Come on. Let me help you." He pats Shane's hip deliberately in an attempt to bring his little big guy to the surface. "I don't want you to fall getting in the tub."

Shane struggles up. "I won't fall, Ry," he says. His voice is already littler than it was.

"I know," Ryan replies. "Cuz I'm gonna help you. Come on."

* * *

On their way down the hall, Ry dips into the guest room. Shane isn't sure why until he emerges in less than 30 seconds with his teal binky. "Here, buddy," he says, offering it to him. Shane opens his mouth and lets him pop it in. It always makes him feel littler, and that includes right now.

In the bathroom, Ry has him sit down on the toilet seat. He manages to get his own pants down as Ry starts turning on the water in the tub, and covers himself with a towel. "Are these bubbles special, or can we use them?" Ry asks, lifting up a plastic bottle from the edge of the tub. Sara had gotten them from that one store at the mall that only seemed to sell soap and lotion.

"'t's okay," Shane says. Sara has half a dozen rotating scents from that store at any time. He likes this particular one though. "She won't mind."

Ry scans the back of the bottle quickly and dumps a squeeze into the running water. Warm vanilla fills the air. Ry turns back to him.

"Doesn't that smell nice?" he asks, chucking him under the chin. Shane nods shyly.

"Okay, now we have to get you undressed. Arms up, big guy," he tells him. Shane feels himself slipping deeper as he lifts his arms and Ryan pulls his tee shirt over his head. "Good job, sweetheart," he coos, tickling gently at Shane's tummy. "You're such a good helper."

Shane blushes a little, but he feels warm at the sweet words. "How'm I gonna get in the tub, Ry?" Shane asks quietly around his binky. 

"You're gonna sit on the edge to swing your legs in, then lower yourself down," Ry says. "You think you can do that? If I give you a hand?"

Shane isn't completely sure, but he nods anyway. He gets up carefully with Ryan's help and turns to sit on the edge of the tub. 

"Be careful," Ryan fusses, bracing him under his arms. "I don't want you to slip."

It's not too hard to get the bad leg over the edge of the tub, because he can use the good one to brace himself. The hot water feels nice against the sore ankle. But now he's got to get the good leg in there too, and the ledge isn't very wide. 

"I can't do it," he whispers. "'M gonna fall." He can't brace the bad foot against the inside of the tub or it's gonna hurt, and he's only got one hand to hold onto the tub with if he doesn't want to show off everything he's got.

"You're not gonna fall," Ry says patiently. "Hold onto the side. I've got you."

Shane feels very vulnerable. "Promise?" he asks.

"Promise. Come on, honey. Count of three, you're gonna lift up your leg and get it in the tub. One, two, three."

He does as he's told, leaning into Ry, who supports his weight easily as he swings his leg over. Then he can brace himself on it, and it's easy enough to slip down until he's sitting in the tub, knees bent slightly to fit. He lets his bad leg rest on top of the good one so there's nothing pressing against it.

Ry pats his back. "Good job, buddy. See, I knew we could do it!"

The heat feels surprisingly great on that sore ankle and he sighs. "You okay, honey?" Ry looks at his face. He nods.

"Feels good on my owie leg," he says softly. 

"Good, that's good," Ryan says, his face softening. He grabs a bottle of shampoo from the ledge. "Can I help you wash your hair?"

Shane nods, and Ryan says, "Hang on a second. We're gonna need a cup to rinse all the shampoo out. I'm gonna go grab one, okay?"

Shane nods again and relaxes back against the tub as Ry goes. There are so many bubbles. Experimentally, he grabs a handful and squeezes them through his fingers. It's weirdly satisfying. 

Ry comes back with a plastic cup that had been handed out when they signed up for health insurance at work. "This should work pretty well, huh?" Ry takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves it on the counter before he kneels down on the bath rug.

"Okay. Close your eyes," he says, and Shane shuts them tightly. He hears Ry chuckle. "I'm gonna pour some water over your head."

The water washes over his face and shoulders, and he sputters a little. "You're gonna drown me!" he whines around his paci, joking but only a little. The water is behind the shield of the pacifier, and it feels a little like he's drooling. He sucks in some of the water and makes a face. It's soapy, and doesn't taste at all like it smells.

"What's that about, buddy?" Ry pats his cheek gently. "You're making some weird little faces over here."

"Icky!" he says, pulling the binky loose and scrubbing off his tongue with his hand. It only makes it worse, and now he's really spitting, and drooling, and his eyes are even watering a little. It's sharp and so yucky..

"Oh no!" Ry sounds sorry, but also like he's trying not to laugh. The water turns on, and then Ry is holding the cup up to his mouth. "Swish and spit. I'm sorry; I didn't think about the soap!"

Shane does, because that soap taste is terrible. Ry lets him do it as many times as he wants, until the burning taste is gone. Ry then rinses the paci off very well and puts it back in Shane's mouth.

"Is that better?" he asks, and Shane nods.

"That was not very nice, Ry," he scolds around his now clean and not soapy binky.

"I didn't do it on purpose," Ry says. "I know that's pretty icky."

"You do not!" Okay, Shane's a little grumpy about it, but that was not nice.

"I do. I got a whole mouthful of Ivory once for saying some bad words," Ry says.

Shane looks at him in horror. "Wait, really? On purpose?" He comes up a little bit from his headspace in horror. "That's… I'm sorry, Ry." Something about that, on purpose, seems like such a mean thing to do to a kid.

"I'm okay. I don't think it slowed my mouth down much," he says. "Right? Your Papi Ry knows a lot of bad words."

That was true enough, but still.

"Close your eyes. I'm gonna wash your hair."

"But…" Shane can't quite let it go. "Were you little? A little kid?" The idea is actually sad to him.

"I was probably about seven or eight," Ry says. He starts to gently rub shampoo into Shane's hair, which feels amazing. "My dad heard me say something pretty naughty at church right in front of Father Jim, and he pulled me into the bathroom and washed my mouth out right there. Still not a big fan of that white hand soap."

"What did you say?" Shane wonders. Like many parts of Ryan's childhood, he just can't imagine his parents punishing him like that. They were so gentle with them compared to Ryan's parents. And he knows that Ryan loves and respects his folks deeply, so obviously he wasn't traumatized or whatever, but it all just seems like a harsh way to treat a child.

"Tilt your head back so it stays out of your eyes," Ry orders gently, and Shane does. "I don't know. I don't really remember."

Shane isn't sure why that makes him feel like he might cry. 

"Okay, I'm gonna rinse your hair out," Ry tells him. "Mouth and eyes closed."

Shane takes a deep breath and holds it as Ryan rinses the shampoo from his hair. "Alright, buddy," he says, and then he's wiping Shane's face with a washcloth. It doesn't smell soapy. "You start washing up. I'll scrub your back for you." He hands him a bar of soap.

It's not Ivory, Shane notes.

"I…you wouldn't do that to me, right Ry?" Shane asks quietly. 

Ry looks at him. "I don't know if I could...Is that something you'd want me to do?" he asks slowly. Shane vehemently shakes his head and covers his mouth with his hand protectively.

"No. No, no, no. Uncle! I cry uncle on soap in the mouth!" he says. Ry had told him that he could always cry uncle if he needed to stop something. 

Stopping before it ever starts, in this case, seems like a good idea.

"Okay, sweetheart. I won't do that to you," Ry promises, putting a soothing hand on the back of his head. "I think we both feel the same way about that, thankfully, so that won't be a thing."

"Icky. Bad," Shane mumbles. "Don't like it, Ry. Not for me or you." He's got a lot of feelings, but no good words. Words are sometimes hard when he feels little anyway. Shane drops the soap into the tub.

"Yeah. My sweet boy," Ryan says, rubbing his hand on Shane's back. "Were you worried about me, honey?"

Shane nods as Ryan fishes the soap out and takes the washcloth from him. He starts to lather it up. 

"You don't have to worry, okay?" He starts washing Shane's back with the soapy cloth, which also feels very nice. "I'm a grown-up now. Nobody is gonna wash my mouth out anymore." He gently boops Shane's nose. "And now that we learned to be a little more careful with the bubble bath, no one's gonna wash yours out either."

Shane leans forward over his knees so Ry can scrub a little more. "So if I said a naughty word…" he trails off, wanting to check.

"I think I already promised you a couple of swats on the bottom if you did that," Ry says. "But you're my good boy, aren't you? You're not gonna go around saying naughty words." Ry pours water down his back to rinse off the soap.

Shane shakes his head emphatically. "I can be a good boy," he says softly. He really loves to be good for Ry. 

"I know you can. You are," Ry says. He washes under Shane's arms, which tickles a little, and then hands him the rag. "Finish up before you get cold, sweetie," he reminds him. "Do you want jammies or real clothes today?"

Shane washes his chest and thinks about it. He really wants his Care Bear jammies, but because of everything, they're a no go. "D'ya think Sara 's'gonna wanna go anywhere with us today?"

"She didn't say anything. Pick out what you want. I'll help you change later if we need to."

"Can I have my Spider Man jammies?" he asks. They're easier to use the bathroom while he's wearing them, which is a plus now that peeing has leveled up in difficulty.

"Of course," Ry says. "Which drawer?"

"Bottom," Shane says, and Ryan goes back into the bedroom to grab them. Shane finishes washing up and uses the cup to rinse off.

The bubble bath is nice, as long as it isn't in his mouth. He can see why Sara likes it so much. But the bubbles are fading now, and Ry is right; it is getting a little bit cold.

Ry comes back in, holding his Spider Man jammies and a giant bath towel. He balances them on the counter.

"Okay, buddy. Now we have to get you out of there," Ry says. He grabs the towel and holds it out. "We're gonna get you out exactly how we got you in, but backwards. Can you hold onto the sides to get your foot under you, and then sit on the edge?"

Shakily, Shane manages. He's really naked now, but it just doesn't seem all that important. Ry wraps the towel around him.

With help, Shane manages to sit back on the toilet. He lets Ry dress him, doing his best to follow what he's told, but otherwise passive.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Ry asks. He sounds concerned. "You seem sad."

"Cuddle?" Shane whispers around the binky in his mouth. He just wants to be close to his Ry right now.

"Yeah, of course," Ry says gently. "What's wrong?"

Shane just shakes his head and hugs Ryan around the waist. He gets one back, enthusiastic if slightly damp from helping Shane out of the tub. 

He feels Ry sigh. "Okay. Let's go sit on the couch, honey," he says into Shane's clean hair. 

Shane crutches his way to the couch with Ry holding his waist the whole way there. His ankle feels pretty good right now though, and he's no shakier than he ever is. 

Ry gets him settled on the couch. "Do you want some juice?" he offers. Shane thinks about it for a second and nods. 

Ry comes over, sippy cup in one hand, coffee mug in the other. He sits next to Shane, who immediately latches onto him with both hands. 

He has an overwhelming urge to make sure his Ry is safe, that no one's gonna hurt him. Nobody should have soap in their mouth on purpose.

It's not fair and he hates it.

"Okay," Ry says softly. "Guess my big guy needs me, huh?"

Shane nods. "Stay with me," he says around the binky. If Ry stays close, Shane can protect him.

"I'm right here, bud," he says, softly patting a rhythm against his side. "Do you need a nap?"

Shane shakes his head.

"Okay. Do you want Papi Ry to feed you?"

Shane feels shy, but he does really like that. He gives a little nod.

Ry pats his lap. "Okay. Lay down."

Shane wiggles around until he's face up with his head and shoulders in Ryan's lap, being careful of his ankle. Ry takes the paci and offers him the soft silicone spout of the cup.

He sucks lazily at the sippy while Ry gently combs his fingers through his hair. The way Ry is looking at him--like he's something beautiful and sweet--makes him feel so little.

He sighs through his nose and closes his eyes. 

"When your foot feels better, I think we should do a little shopping," Ry says softly. "We need some bath toys."

Shane smiles around the spout, because that sounds fun. "Uh huh," he mumbles.

He hears the key in the door, and then Sara is coming in. "Oh my god," she says softly. "You two are so precious."

Shane opens his eyes and grabs Ry's shirt in his hand, but Ry doesn't even flinch. "Hey Sara," he says. "How'd it go?"

"They were backed up, but it wasn't bad." She walks over and Shane can see her face. It's the same soft look she gets for kittens and puppies. "Did you take a shower?"

"Bath," Shane whispers shyly. "We used your bubbles."

She sniffs. "That's what that is," she says. "I knew I recognized it." She sits down in the chair since he and Ry have the whole couch, and kicks her feet up into the coffee table.

Shane feels a little shy, but Ry continues to feed him and stroke his hair. It helps.

He finishes the juice, and Ry leans over him to put the cup on the table. "Good job, honey," he says. Shane feels his face going pink. He glances at Sara.

She looks fascinated. When their eyes meet, she smiles at him. 

"He's such a good boy for you," she remarks to Ry. Shane's whole body goes warm as he lights up with a blush. 

He feels Ry laugh. "He is," he says, petting Shane's hair. "Aren't you, sweetie?"

Shane hides his face against Ry's stomach, but he nods. He tries to be good for Ry, unless he's feeling bratty. But in the end, he's always Ry's good boy.

"Aw, don't be embarrassed," Ry says. "We love you. Nobody is judging."

Shane's ankle twinges and he winces. "Ry, c'n I have some Advil?" he asks into his belly.

"What was that?" Ry asks. Shane reluctantly pulls his face back a little.

"My ankle's starting to hurt again," he says softly. "Advil?"

Sara jumps up. "Let me grab it," she says. "Since you've got a lapful of Shane."

Shane manages to get up into a sitting position, still hanging onto Ry's shirt. 

"You're so clingy today," Ry says. "Are you okay?"

"Wanna keep you safe," Shane says.

"Safe?" Ry sounds confused. "Safe from what?"

It sounds silly because there is no risk of this happening, but he says it anyway. "No soap in your mouth."

He feels Ry freeze for a second, and then sigh. "Oh, honey. I'm sorry that I made you sad. If it makes you feel better, I haven't thought about that in years."

Shane shakes his head. "I wouldn't let anybody do that to you, Ry. Not ever."

Ry hugs him. "I know," he says. "You always protect me, huh?"

Shane nods firmly. "We protect each other," he says. 

Ry pats his back. "Of course, bud."

Sara comes over with a couple of Advil and a glass of water. "Here," she says, passing them to Shane. He swallows them gratefully. 

"Drink your water," Ry tells him. Shane sips at it obediently.

There's a knock at the door. "That was fast," Sara says. Ryan snags the sippy cup and pacifier from the coffee table and shoves them under a throw pillow. 

The protecting thing definitely goes both ways.

* * *

The guy from Instacart is loaded down with bags. Ryan gently extracts himself from Shane's grip to help Sara put the groceries away. 

He knows his way around their kitchen. Sara likes it.

"Are you boys gonna spend the afternoon doing your thing?" she asks. She can make herself scarce in the office if they're doing something a little more on the intense side.

Ryan shrugs. "I don't know," he says. "We'll probably just chill and watch some TV or something. He's little, but we're not really…I dunno. Doing anything in particular."

"You have room for me to chill with you?" she asks. She can tell they are both much more comfortable with her presence than they used to be, but she doesn't want to presume. 

"Yeah, of course," Ryan says. "Right Shane?"

"Uh huh," Shane says. "Watch TV with us, Sara "

"Maybe we can pull out those crayons later," Ryan says. "You can work on your art, and we can do some coloring. What do you think, buddy?" He directs this last bit to Shane.

"Ooh," Shane says enthusiastically, and Sara smiles, because she feels the same way. "That is a very good idea, Ry."

"Agreed," Sara says. She puts the last box of granola in the cupboard and shuts it. "Thank you."

"No problem," he says. They make their way back to the couch, where Shane is sucking on his pacifier and watching them.

"You found it, huh?" Ryan asks. Shane nods. "Well, hope that couch is clean, I guess." He sits on Shane's left.

"He's fine, Papa Ry," Sara says. She thinks it's pretty cute how Ryan worries about his boy though. "What do we wanna watch?" She sits next to Shane on the right. 

"Something funny," Shane says. Sara starts scrolling through the queue.

"Should I make some popcorn?" Ryan asks. "That counts as lunch, right?"

They both look at her as though they're asking permission. She laughs.

"Yeah, whatever. Popcorn for lunch," she agrees. Ryan jumps up and heads to the kitchen. Shane puts an arm around her shoulder.

They're wonderful. She feels so lucky.


	4. Shane and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

He spends part of the day being little, and part being big, and both Ryan and Sara just go with the flow.

He feels pretty lucky to have two people who love and understand him so well.

His ankle is hurting less, and by the time he goes to bed on Saturday night, he's spent the day without the prescription pain meds, though he's still reliably taking over the counter ibuprofen and Tylenol in an alternating pattern. He even manages to get himself into bed with minimal assistance from Ryan, which feels a little weird after the last few nights. 

In the morning, he wakes up early because he needs to pee. He manages to get himself up without help by kneeling on the edge of the bed, getting his crutches in place, standing on his good foot and supporting his weight on the knee of his bad one until he feels solid. Sara's still snoring away on the other side of the bed, completely oblivious to the giant step he's making for Shanekind. 

Pleased with himself, he brings himself to the bathroom alone, which is how he finds out that while deliberately walking on it still feels pretty lousy, he can use it for balance if he needs to without too much discomfort, which is a huge improvement. His balance still sucks.

It's beautiful weather outside, and Shane would kill to be able to go for a run, but obviously that's not in the cards for awhile. So instead, he takes some ibuprofen and makes his way to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee.

"I thought I heard you," Ryan says from behind him while he's setting up the coffee pot. He jumps, spills some coffee grounds, and swears when one of the crutches topples to the floor. He has to hang onto the counter to pick it up. He should have stuck to the damn Keurig.

"Shit, Ryan, make some noise, why don't you? It's like being snuck up on by a cat."

Ryan shrugs. "Cats are cute, even if they kinda make me sneeze." 

Shane sighs. Ryan's a smart guy, but sometimes when his brain isn't running on all cylinders, he can really miss the point. "Yes, you'd make a cute enough cat I guess, but the point wasn't that you  _ are _ a cat. The point is that you surprised me."

"Oh. Sorry," he offers. "You want help with the coffee?"

Shane doesn't really want help, but the lid of the tin is not cooperative, and he needs to clean up his spill. And also, he knows Ryan wants some too, and probably doesn't want to wait through his fumbling, slow attempts. "Yeah, thanks," he says, sliding the coffee tin to Ryan and grabbing a rag from the sink to wipe up the escapee grounds. Ryan refills the filter with the ease of a man who does not need one hand to balance and puts it in the machine.

He limps over to the stove, thinking about making some eggs, but when he stoops to grab a skillet, he loses his balance and ends up sitting down  _ hard _ on the floor.

"Whoa, Shane, you okay?" Ryan asks. He offers a hand and pulls Shane back up to his feet. "What happened?"

"I was just getting a pan," he says, rubbing his left butt cheek where it took the brunt of the landing. 

"Maybe you should let me make breakfast," Ryan says.

"I can do it!" Shane protests as Ryan easily stoops for a pan. "Just let me try. Stop acting like I'm fucking helpless!" He tries to sound like he's kidding around, but it's a little too sharp to be convincing.

"Your balance isn't very good," Ryan points out. "I don't think that's a good idea around open flames. That doesn't mean I think you're helpless."

Shane sighs, because Ryan is very obviously right, and he doesn't like it much. "Fuck. Fine. Sara got turkey bacon, I think."

"You can make toast," Ryan offers.

Shane grumbles, but grabs a loaf of bread as Ryan pulls the bacon and eggs out of the fridge and turns on the stove.

* * *

Sara wakes up to the smell of breakfast, which is lovely. She opens her eyes, only to see that Shane's already out of bed.

She turns off her alarm before it rings. Then she gets up and ready for her yoga class, which basically means brushing her teeth and putting on leggings and a tee shirt.

When she comes out to the kitchen, she finds Ryan in front of the stove flipping bacon onto a plate covered with paper towel while Shane sits on a barstool by the toaster. He looks grumpy, while Ryan seems to be in a good mood. In the background, music is playing.

"I think it might actually be fun," Ryan says, "like the old days. When they made us drive."

"Oh, like the time when you and Brent and Daysha just drove and almost died in the desert? You might notice that I wasn't actually part of the show at that point," Shane says sourly.

_ Okay, grumpy mood confirmed _ .

"I mean, we have to make the best of it, but I think we'll have some fun along the way," Ryan says. "Morning, Sara." He smiles at her.

"Morning!" she says. She kisses Shane. "How's it going?"

"I'm useless, and Ryan's chipper," Shane says. Ryan laughs.

"You're not completely useless," he says.

"Yeah, just mostly," Shane says with a grimace. "You gonna eat with us before yoga?"

She has enough time for a quick bite, at least. "Sure, since you made bacon," she says, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

They eat together. Shane is much more snippy than he usually is. She can sympathize, because having a sprained ankle doesn't look like fun, but she is also glad that she's got yoga right now, because he's kind of acting like a temperamental asshole and she wants a break from that energy.

Hopefully he and Ryan will figure it out while she's gone.

* * *

Sara leaves for yoga and Ryan starts cleaning up the dishes.

"You don't have to do that," Shane says. "I might not be good for much, but I can at least wash some fucking dishes." He sounds legitimately mad about it.

"Okay," Ryan says after a pause. "You want to do that?"

Shane sighs. He's been doing a lot of that this morning. "Not really," he admits. "But I can't exactly do anything else, so will you help me get set up for it?"

"Sure," Ryan tells him. "Here, I'll move the stool to in front of the sink."

He can practically see Shane biting his own tongue as Ryan does it. He settles himself, sets his crutches aside, and starts cleaning the dishes. Ryan quietly works on washing the counters and stove, and doing other tasks that require mobility. 

They work in silence for awhile, until Shane picks up the conversation they'd been having earlier. "So when they say they're cutting the budget, for us that means…" he asks.

"I think they're gonna be wanting us to do more sponsored videos," Ryan admits. "Katie didn't say it flat out, but I mean, it was kind of implied."

"Great," Shane says. "You know how much I love sponsored shit."

Ryan feels the same way. It's clunky, and often has to be shoehorned in. It so rarely seems like anything real or natural to the  _ Unsolved _ brand either, or only tangentially so. And most of it isn't like Knott's Berry Farm, which is inherently fun at least."I mean, same," he says. "But I guess if it means we can keep up our show, that's good."

"Is it? If it ends up fucking our show into oblivion, I don't know if I'd call that 'good' exactly." Shane is scrubbing at the bacon pan with an uncalled-for amount of ire. 

"It means we at least have the opportunity to continue making things we  _ can _ stand by," Ryan says. "If we all get fired for newer, cheaper interns--"

"Like they did to Teej," Shane mutters angrily.

"--we'll just be shit outta luck."

"Not really," Shane says. "I mean, people like us. We're at least a little famous. It wouldn't be like our early twenties, starting from scratch. But it would still fucking blow."

"Oh my God, you're just contrary and irritable today!" Ryan says finally, throwing his hands up. "What is going on with you? What do you want from me?"

Shane groans and drops the sponge into the sink. "I'm just sick of this fucking ankle," he says. "It's not your fault." 

Ryan's well aware it's not his fault, but he's glad Shane also knows this. "I know it's annoying, but it's gotta heal," he says.

"I know that. Don't you think I know that?" Shane snaps, then immediately looks sheepish. "Sorry," he adds.

Ryan studies him for a second. "So is this frustration something you want to handle as an adult, or as a little?" he asks finally. He honestly has no idea what Shane is going to say. But he can tell that Shane's just mad at the world today.

Shane looks surprised. "What?" he says.

"Well, cuz we can handle this as adults, where if you act like a dick, I tell you to fuck off and find something to do with myself that doesn't put me in the direct line of fire. Or we can do this with you being little, where if you act like a brat, I find suitable consequences. But either way, I don't particularly want to spend the whole day fighting with you."

"So if I say adult, you're just gonna leave?" Shane asks defensively.

"What? No," Ryan says. "I said I was staying the weekend, and I meant it. But I'll probably go hang out in the office or something for awhile until you stop taking shit out on me."

He can see Shane's relief at that, which tells him something. The man takes a deep breath.

"You don't have to hang out in the office," Shane says. "I'll try very hard to stop being a dick." He looks suitably contrite.

"Alright," Ryan says. "That's fine with me." And it is. Anything that gets Shane to stop biting his head off is A-OK with him.

They finish cleaning up the kitchen quietly, letting the music playing in the background take the place of the conversation. Talking about work troubles isn't really great if you're already feeling irritable.

"You wanna watch TV or something?" Shane asks.

"Sure," Ryan says. They've watched a lot more TV than usual in the last few days, but it's Sunday. They can watch a little more. 

So they settle on the couch and turn on a bro-mantic comedy. It's not great, but it's ok. 

They're about twenty minutes in when Shane sighs and says, "Okay, so I know I said adult, but honestly? I want to throw myself on the floor and kick and scream like a toddler, because I have to go pee, and the amount of work involved seems frankly ridiculous."

Ryan looks at him. He looks frustrated as all hell. Ryan shrugs and pats his shoulder.

"You make your own decisions, buddy," he says. "Just, you know, mind the ankle so you don't hurt yourself again. Cuz if you do that, you're getting a trip to urgent care instead of a spanking."

"Fuck this ankle," Shane grumbles, hauling himself to his feet. "I've gotta use the bathroom."

While he does that, Ryan goes to the guest room and digs out a binky for Shane that he puts in his pocket. There is a 99% chance that the little big guy is gonna show up soon, and he's ready for it. 

Shane comes back five minutes later looking ready to scream. "I dropped my fucking contact solution in the toilet," he whispers. He sits down on the chair and says, "Ry, I'm done."

Ryan takes a deep breath and grabs his phone. He shoots Sara a quick text asking her when she thinks she'll be home. "Alright, buddy," he says. "Let it rip."

Shane very carefully lowers himself until he's flat on his belly on the floor, slides away from the coffee table, and lets out a growl of frustration, smacking his balled up fist against the rug. "Fuuuuuuck!" he screams.

He kicks his good leg even as he protects the bad one from the fit he's throwing. "Fuck this day! Fuck this ankle! Fuck the dishes!" He's getting louder and more into it. 

Ryan is mildly fascinated. He can see that although Shane is heading towards little space, he's not there yet. But each time he bangs his hands against the floor, he inches closer. "Fuck the contact solution! And the stupid, stupid crutches!" His voice is changing, slowly becoming littler. "They're stupid and I hate them! And stupid BuzzFeed, firing all our friends! And the stupid coffee! And the toast! And, and I just wanna be able to go outside and run and I'm stuck in here and the movie isn't even good! And, and…" he trails off into a wordless yell, still kicking his long limbs (sans bad ankle) like an angry child at Whole Paycheck.

Ryan feels his pocket buzz. He checks his phone as Shane continues to yell and slap his hands on the floor.

> ** _Sara Rubin: I was invited for mimosas with some of the others and I'm waffling… Should I accept?_ **
> 
> ** _Ryan Bergara: Probably a good idea if you're at all interested. Shane's still in a mood._ **
> 
> ** _Ryan Bergara: gonna see if I can beat it out of him lol_ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: okay. I'll text before I head home. Maybe you can get him to chill._ **
> 
> ** _Ryan Bergara: you're the best_ **

He puts his phone on the table and looks at Shane, who is panting on the floor.

"Are you done, little boy?" he asks firmly. 

"No!" Shane shouts, shaking his head. He's got a more actually-upset version of that adorable pout he often pulls out when Ryan teases him. He slaps the floor again. "No, no, no, no, no, no! Noooooooooo!" 

Ryan's determined to have him let it all out precisely because he's seen how pissed off Shane's been all morning.

"Well, you may as well finish your temper tantrum," Ryan tells him. "Because once you're done, you've got a spanking coming for all this naughty behavior."

"Noooooo!" Shane wails, kicking and smacking some more. "Noooooo! I don't want a spanking!" 

Ryan would probably believe him if his big self hadn't explicitly informed Ryan that he was about to throw a tantrum, knowing he'd get spanked for it.

"Well, that's what your words say, but all this fussing tells me a different story, doesn't it?" Ryan asks. 

"I'm not fussing!" Shane sounds little but outraged. "I'm mad, and it's not fair! I hate this stupid, stupid--argh!" He flips onto his back and stamps his uninjured foot hard. On the coffee table, the remote rattles.

"You  _ are _ fussing," Ryan says softly. "You're just a fussy little boy who needs a spanking and probably a nap."

"I'm noooot!" Shane whines. He's winding down; Ryan can tell. A screaming tantrum is a lot to keep up. "I'm not, Ry!" 

"Mmm," Ryan says. He brings himself down to the floor when Shane is laying. He's there in his pajamas, staring up at the ceiling, looking like he's out of thunder. Ryan takes the paci from his pocket and pops the cap off. 

He lowers his voice slightly. "Are you done  _ now _ , little boy?" His tone implies that he'd better be. "Because I'm feeling pretty done with your bad attitude today. You wake up on the wrong side of the bed, you're mean to me, you're snappy with Sara, and you're just being a little jerk to everyone in your path. Do you think that's fair?"

Shane's shoulders hunch in. "I wasn't…" he whines, but it's quieter. Even he doesn't believe it.

"You keep trying to pick a fight, you're just contrary as can be, and you don't ask for help when you clearly need it. If you keep this up, you're gonna overdo it and end up hurting yourself again. Is that what you want?"

Shane shakes his head, looking upset in a different way than he has all morning. "No," he says. He picks at his shirt hem, looking away from Ryan.

"Do you think you could have found a better way to be upset than by being mean and unpleasant with us?"

He actually sees Shane swallow. "Yeah."

Ryan lets him sit with it for a minute, and Shane starts to squirm. "You…You're gonna spank me, huh?" he says softly. His voice sounds pretty little, even though it's raw from the tantrum. 

Ryan nods at him. "You better believe it," he says firmly. "I warned you that if you used those kinds of naughty words, I'd spank your little bottom, didn't I?" He reaches over and pats Shane's hip for good measure.

He sees Shane freeze. "I...I didn't use naughty words," he whispers. "Ry…I didn't!" He's pleading a little. 

Ryan has to clench his teeth so he doesn't ruin it with a giggle. Shane is definitely under now, and he looks actually nervous. 

"Nobody else was here, kicking and screaming on the floor, were they?" Ryan says in a reasonable voice. "Don't you lie to me." He knows what Shane means, that he wasn't really little when he was cursing up a storm, but it's close enough.

One of the perks of being the Daddy in this kind of relationship is that you get to make your own calls about where the line is.

Shane lets out a small, unhappy whine and tries to bring his fingers to his mouth. Ryan catches his wrist lightning-fast. "No! That floor is not clean enough to be sucking on your fingers," he says sternly. 

Shane actually looks distressed now. "Ry, please," he whimpers. "I'm sorry!" Ryan can actually feel his arm shaking in his hand. He probably wants his paci, considering he's still fighting Ryan's grip in an attempt to self-soothe. He's also sucking on his lower lip.

Thankfully, Ryan is prepared. He's got that binky right at hand.

"Open up," Ryan tells him, offering the silicone nipple. Shane immediately takes it.

The effect is nearly instant. He starts to suck, and his body relaxes a little.

Ryan takes a breath and rises to his feet. He helps his little big guy stand up. He's getting better at it, Ryan notes, although he wishes he wouldn't put his weight on it so much. 

But it must be healing, since he can. Ryan's no doctor.

"Come on, Shane," he says. He hands over his crutches, which Shane gets in place. "Guest bathroom, now. March." Shane's got a good grip on those crutches, so he punctuates his order with a light slap on the rear end. He doesn't want him to lose his balance.

Shane yelps in surprise, but he stays upright. They go together into the guest bathroom. "In front of the sink," he orders, his voice firm, and Shane obediently does.

Ryan comes up right behind him, using his body to sort of brace him there, and moves his crutches against the wall. It probably feels very confining, which is what he's going for, but practically, it also means Shane will stay upright.

"Papi knows you're too little to do this by yourself," he says, turning on the water and taking Shane's hands. He's not really tall enough to see over Shane's shoulder, especially barefoot, so he has to look around his side instead. "So I'm gonna help you." He feels Shane hunker down at his words.  _ Perfect. _

He gently, carefully washes Shane's hands for him. Visually, it's a little silly, because Shane has these giant mitts that eclipse Ryan's own, but Shane is shaky in his grip as Ryan does it. 

In the mirror, Ryan can see how little his boy is feeling. Shane looks upset, still sucking at the binky, eyes down as he watches what Ryan's doing in the sink, eyebrows knit.

Ryan is a little surprised at the serenity in his own face, he must admit. He looks like he knows what he's doing, like he's a Daddy in charge of his little…regardless of the fact that said little has half a foot of height on him.

But it's not a size, it's a mindset.

Shane glances up, and their eyes meet in the mirror where he is peering around Shane's side. "No soap in my mouth, though, Ry," he whispers as Ryan lathers their hands. "'Member?"

He sounds tiny and nervous, and honestly Ryan hadn't thought about that. Apparently yesterday had left a real, negative imprint on his little big guy. "No, honey," he reassures him. "You've been awfully naughty today, and you're getting a spanking, but I won't wash your mouth out."

He feels Shane relax slightly at that.

"I promised," he reminds him. "I wouldn't break a promise." Or overrun a hard limit. 

Those are not things Ryan  ** _ever_ ** fucks around with. That's not BDSM, that's just abuse.

"I know, but...I just had to check," Shane mumbles softly. "Issa lot of soap."

Ryan rinses the soap off and dries their hands deliberately with a towel before carefully helping Shane into the guest bedroom, without his crutches.

He sits Shane on the bed and stands over him, arms crossed over his chest. He sees Shane curl into himself, playing with the hem of his tee shirt. He's sucking at that binky for dear life, and his eyes look nervous.

Ryan feels a tender sort of amusement. He looks so  _ little.  _ The urge to cuddle him in his lap is strong as hell, but they've got business to take care of first.

"Alright, little boy," he says. "Tell me why you're getting a spanking."

Shane takes a deep, shaky breath. "I...I was mean to you and Sara," he whispers, sounding legitimately distressed about it. "Cuz I was cranky 'n I took it out on you."

"Mm-hmm, that's part of it," Ryan agrees. "That's not a very nice thing to do, is it?"

Shane blinks rapidly and shakes his head a little. "Uh uh."

"And why else?"

Shane hunches his shoulders. "I said a naughty word," he mumbles.

"Mmm. More than one, I think," Ryan agrees.

Shane shakes his head. "I just said one," he says. "I just...I just said it a lot."

Ryan lets out a surprised huff and thinks back. It's true, he supposes, but it's definitely not the point.

"Are you really arguing with me right now, Shane?" he asks warningly. 

Shane shakes his head. "No. I just...I wanted to…" He is really tiny. "I just wanted to…"

"Mm-hmm," Ryan says. "I don't think that's the point, is it?"

Shane mutely shakes his head. 

"Anything else?" Ryan asks. 

He sees Shane swallow. "Cuz I asked for it? With my…tantrum?" 

It's cute, the squeamish way he says tantrum. "Yep. That's exactly right. So are you ready for your spanking?"

Shane slowly nods, looking unsure and nervous. Ryan knows that he knows his safeword though, so he continues on.

He's well aware that sometimes you can fear something and still want or need it. 

"Okay little boy," Ryan says. "Do you think I should get the spoon?"

Shane actually shudders. "Nooo…" he pleads. Ryan studies his face. 

His eyes are actually shiny with unshed tears. Poor thing is already half an inch from a full-on breakdown. 

He's not going to need to go hard to turn Shane into a very sorry little boy. He's basically there already.

He sits down next to Shane on the bed and takes his time carefully turning him over his lap. He can feel Shane's breath hitch. This isn't really about the pain of it; it's all about the psychology.

"I think," Ryan says, "this deserves a spanking on your bare bottom." He's curious what Shane will say; how far into little space is he right now? "You've been pretty bratty today."

Shane lets out a tiny sob. "'M sorry!" he pleads, grabbing at the back of Ryan's shirt. "Papa, please, no! 'll be good!"

That brings Ryan up short, because while they've all referred to him as Papa Ry or Papi Ry, Shane has never directly called him that before. 

He's not ready for how it melts his heart.

"I think you earned it, little boy," Ryan says firmly. He's slow and gentle as he pulls down the back of Shane's pajama pants, making plenty of time for a safeword that never comes. He hears a sob, and Shane's back shudders.

He looks down at Shane's pale behind, and is surprised to see a bruise forming on the left side of his butt, by his hip. It's from when he hit the floor before breakfast. "You hurt yourself, honey," he says, skating his fingers over it. "There's a little black-and-blue mark here. This is why Papi wants you to ask for help when you need it."

Shane's crying. "Sorry!" he whimpers, his hand gripping tight to Ryan's shirt. It's pulling, practically strangling him, but he doesn't have the heart to tell him to let go.

"I know you're sorry, but you're still getting a spanking," Ryan replies. "Here we go." 

Ryan brings his palm down on Shane's unbruised cheek. Shane jumps, and the tears erupt like a volcano.

His heart clenches in his chest. His poor little boy. It's obviously been a rough couple of days.

He lays down a few good, stinging swats where he isn't bruised, but with the way Shane is crying, it's pretty clear that the spanking is the least of what he needs. So after about ten smacks, with Shane sobbing pitifully against the bed spread, Ryan stops.

He gently fixes Shane's clothes and rubs his hand on his back. "My poor baby," he says sympathetically. "It's been a hard week, hasn't it?"

Shane's tears actually get stronger. "Uh huh," he sobs. "Bad. Is bad!" He's lost his pacifier at some point, and as usual, he's got his finger in his mouth.

Ryan sighs. "Okay, honey. Sit up for me," he says.

It isn't easy to get him sitting up, but at this point, Ryan's pretty used to doing all the work. Once Shane's sitting, he grabs Ryan with both hands and cries against his shoulder.

Ryan wraps his arms around him and rocks him gently. "Oh, sweetheart," he says. He grabs Shane's discarded pacifier off the bed and decides it's clean enough. He sneaks it into his mouth. "It's gonna be okay."

He holds Shane as he cries himself out. It takes a while. By the time he's worn himself down to sniffles and hiccups, he's clinging to Ryan's shirt, looking miserable and exhausted.

"What do you need, honey?" Ryan asks him softly, brushing his hair off his face.

"'m sorry, Papa," he whimpers. "Bad boy." He hides his face in Ryan's shoulder.

"You're not a bad boy, sweetie," he says. "You just have had a really hard week. Sometimes we just need a little help to reset." He rubs his hand on Shane's back. "I don't mind helping."

Truth be told, it's one of the more fulfilling parts of his life, when Shane trusts him to take him apart...and put him back together.

Shane hiccups. "You're not mad?" His voice is so vulnerable and small.

"No, I'm not mad buddy," he soothes. "Here. I think you need a little nap. Can you lay down for me?" Ryan eases loose from Shane and pulls back the covers. "Come up here."

Shane whines, but obediently moves to where Ryan directed. He lays down.

"Let me tuck you in," Ryan says, settling the blankets around him.

"Don't leave me," Shane protests softly. 

"I'm gonna go get you something to drink, okay? I'll be right back," Ryan assures him. He sees Shane blink hard, and more tears are threatening. "You've got to drink something with all that crying you've been doing." 

He runs to the kitchen and fills Shane's sippy cup with juice, and on the way back, darts into the office to grab Harold from his spot above Shane's desk. He leaves ZeeZee the bat though, because he wants Shane to sleep, not play. His boy is gonna need his best stuffie friend. When he returns to the guest room, Shane is sniffling again. 

"Shh," Ryan says. He sits up at the head of the bed and plucks the paci from his mouth. "Look who I found, honey." He shows Harold to Shane.

He holds out his arms. "Harold!" he says. It's the closest to happy Ryan has heard him all day.

Ryan can't keep back his grin. "Here, buddy," he says. He passes the ugly toy to Shane, who immediately hooks the Velcro arms around his neck and cuddles him against his chest with a look of immense satisfaction.

"Now, drink this for me," he says, showing Shane the sippy. Shane obediently opens his mouth like a baby bird.

He feeds him, and Shane grips his shirt and hiccups occasionally. His eyes blink heavily. He looks little and soft and sleepy.

He's so freaking adorable that Ryan can hardly stand it.

Once Shane is finished drinking his juice, Ryan offers him the binky again, which he takes gratefully.

"Do you want me to cuddle with you?" Ryan asks. Shane nods sleepily. Ryan stands and pulls back the blankets so he can slide under the covers. Shane immediately latches onto him, with his head on Ryan's chest.

"Alright, buddy," Ryan says softly. "You take a little nap."

"'Kay," Shane mumbles agreeably. He snuffles around the paci and closes his eyes.

"Love you, Shane," Ryan says quietly.

"Love you too," Shane whispers. 

He falls asleep almost immediately. Ryan sends Sara a quick text, then sets aside his phone.

It doesn't take him long to follow.

* * *

Sara comes home to a silent house. She got a message from Ryan saying, "All clear," but nothing more. She checks her phone again for missed messages, but there's nothing there. 

She looks in the master bedroom first, but no one's in there, and both bathrooms are open. The office is empty as well. So cautiously, she taps on the guest room door and sticks her head in.

They're asleep, cuddled together. Ryan's on his back, and Shane is curled on his side with his head propped on Ryan's chest. Ryan's got an arm around Shane. Harold is squashed in there too. Shane's mouth works slightly on his pacifier.

It's a very sweet tableau. She whips out her phone and takes a picture. The phone makes a shutter noise that seems loud in the quiet.

She sees Ryan's eyes flutter before they open. It takes him a second to come to, but then he looks up at her and his lips quirk into a little smile.

"Hey," he says quietly. "How was yoga and mimosas?"

"Good," she replies. "How was Shane?"

"Cantankerous," Ryan says. "He's had a tough week."

They've all had a rough couple of days in their own way, but of course Shane's had the worst of it. 

"I think he's gonna feel a little better now," Ryan adds. "We had it out."

Sara snorts. She can imagine. "I'm sure," she says.

"It didn't take much," Ryan confides. "Think he just needed some sympathy more than anything."

It's so interesting to her how Ryan can read Shane now. It's different than how she reads Shane, but he's really proficient at doing his whole Papa Ry thing.

"Just a little Papa Ry time, huh?" she teases gently. She's not expecting the goofy look this brings up on Ryan's face.

"What happened?" she asks. There's a decent pause; she can tell Ryan is thinking.

"I never expected to find this so fulfilling. If you would have told me last year that this was what was coming--that I'd become Shane's Papi Ry and freaking adore it, that you and I would end up, like--" he gestures between them because words to explain exactly what their relationship is are hard to find, "--like this, that these things, the thing between me and Shane, but also the thing between me and you, and the thing with all three of us, would be something that's like, a hugely important part of my life, I wouldn't have believed it. I couldn't have even imagined it." He sounds a little overwhelmed, but in a positive way.

It's a speech, and Sara finds herself agreeing with every bit of it. "I'm glad though. Glad that you and Shane got into this, and glad to have you as a part of this unconventional thing between the three of us," she says. Ryan looks so happy, with Shane snuggled against him. She feels the same warmth seeing it. "I couldn't have either, but honestly… I'm really happy. For us all."

"Me too," Shane mumbles softly around his pacifier, and she sees Ryan startle slightly.

"How long have you been awake, bud?" Ryan asks.

"Since you started talking all sappy and cute," he says softly, scooting closer. He still doesn't open his eyes. "Sara, come cuddle."

The bed is queen-sized and not really made for three people, especially since Shane's a giant and Ryan's at least half a foot taller than her and more muscly than Shane. There's a little space on Shane's other side. Ryan glances at it and inches closer to his edge of the bed, pulling Shane with him. It's clearly an invitation.

She walks to the far side of the bed and slides into the narrow space available, spooning up against Shane's back. She puts her arm around Shane, with her hand on Ryan's shoulder. 

She can feel Shane sigh with contentment. "'S is nice," he says softly.

It really is. She can feel them both breathing evenly. 

"Did you guys even eat lunch?" she asks. 

"Not yet," Ryan says. "But we can just chill for a little bit first."

It sounds good to Sara.

"Seems like a nice way to spend a lazy Sunday to me," she says. "All in favor?"

"Aye," the boys chorus as though they practiced it while she was gone.

"Motion passes," she says, settling closer to Shane. They fit, but there's not a ton of space.

There's a short beat of silence that Shane breaks. "So yoga doesn't take this long usually," he says. "What happened?"

"Got a little text message saying that you were still cranky and I should go out for mimosas," Sara says. Shane cringes slightly against Ryan. Ryan chuckles.

"Was I wrong, buddy?" he prods.

"I guess not," Shane draws out. "Better than you coming home in the middle of…all that."

Sara raises her eyebrows even though neither of them are looking at her. "All that?" she asks.

"Um," Shane says hesitantly, "I might have had a little…" He's turning slightly pink.

She looks over at Ryan, who is watching Shane fondly. 

"He's had a rough week, haven't you big guy?" he says. He's got that lilt to his voice that she associates with  _ Papa Ry _ as opposed to Ryan. "He decided to throw an all-out, kicking, screaming fit."

The mental image is something else. "Really?" Sara asks. "Like, literally?" She thinks about how Shane sometimes gets mad and yells at random objects, though, and reconsiders. She can see it. "Oh my God, you really did, didn't you?"

Shane's face reddens more. "I...I mean, kind of," he mumbles against Ryan's chest. 

"Not kind of," Ryan contradicts. "You missed a full-on temper tantrum."

Ry…" he whines. His face is practically glowing. "Sara's gonna think I'm a brat…"

She can't resist a perfect opening. "Well, aren't you?"

She doesn't want to take Ryan's role, not at all. But she's always liked giving Shane a hard time. That's how they started flirting in the first place. And that instinct means that sometimes, she and Ryan end up teaming up on Shane. Who she's certain loves every bit of it.

"Sara!" Shane sounds mildly scandalized. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

"I calls 'em like I sees 'em," she says unrepentantly, but she gives him a good squeeze to be clear that she's only teasing.

Shane huffs dramatically. "I'm going to my own bed and you and Ry can just cuddle and conspire without me," he jokes.

There's a beat of silence where her eyes meet Ryan's. She's pretty sure he's on the same page. She gives a little nod and they spring into action.

Ryan flips on his side and they both squish in closer. She hears Shane let out an "oof" at the sudden pressure. She feels Ryan throw his arms around them both, and returns the gesture. 

Shane is basically the filling in a Sara and Ryan sandwich. He's helplessly squashed in between them, arms trapped against his sides.

"Stay, Shane!" she croons. "We love you!"

"We've got you like one of those creepy butterflies under glass!" Ryan adds. "Haven't you always wanted to know what that's like?"

She feels Shane sigh. "Oh no, whatever shall I do?" he says in a very unconvincing manner. "Oh woe is me."

It is pretty nice. A thought flits through the back of her mind.

_ What if Ryan really did stay here with us? _

It's a big thought, and slightly terrifying. That's definitely one she's gonna have to discuss with Shane first. Maybe Ryan won't even want that. 

So she pushes it aside for now and just snuggles down, happy, with her boyfriend and his…no,  _ their _ queerplatonic partner. Who would have thought?


End file.
